


It's You I Hear So Loud And Clear

by soulpicnic



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 58,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulpicnic/pseuds/soulpicnic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a journey of two friends trying to bring back hope and happiness into each other's worlds. Slightly depressing, but I believe in happy endings. WARNING: Middle to later chapters involve abuse, so please read the fic with hope and rose-colored glasses. (Previously uploaded at fanfiction.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

Where do you go when you're lonely?

Santana went to a tree. A lonely, forgotten tree in a secluded area that nobody ever goes to because without the cheerful colors of the swing sets, monkey bars and the slide, or the carefree sounds of laughing children, it was simply the most depressing corner of the park.

She didn't really know why she was drawn to the tree in the first place. She used to think the tree was beautiful — at least, that  _seemed_ to be the reason why she decided to stop and stared at the tree one day.

Well, now that she thought about it… it  _was_  kind of pretty. All Linden trees are. But she knew now that it wasn't the reason at all. The tree, because of its size, stood there alone. She wasn’t sure if it was intentionally put there all by itself, or if with time everything else just sort of… moved away.

"You and I, tree," she huffed, sitting on the ground with her back leaning against the tree. "We're kind of the same, right? We're both here. We didn't have any choice to  _be_  anywhere else. I'm alone, you're alone. Et cetera, et cetera."

Yes. Sometimes Santana would talk to the tree and she would hear it answer. But, every time, she would shake her head and chuckle because obviously she had lost her marbles. (“ _What are you doing, Santana, talking to a tree?”)_ Not that she would mind it though because sometimes all she wanted to do was lose all the voices in her head. And there were so many. Most of them posed questions.

None offered her the answers.

After a long while of silence, Santana scoffed loudly. "You know what? I take that back.  _I'm_  alone, but you're probably not. Lots of green stuff around, so you're probably laughing at me right now. Like, _'why does this crazy girl keep coming back'_ or something. Whatever. Go ahead and mock me with your stupid leaves and your stupid branches and your stupid baby birds waiting in their stupid nests. Just so you know, I'm totally pulling the grass out of the ground for revenge."

But, as it turned out, Santana didn't have the patience to even follow through with her threat, nor the heart. After the second angry handful of grass, she leaned back on the tree and gave it a pat.

"Sorry," she said. "Bad day. Like always."

Santana turned her attention to the rest of the park. She could see the bright colors of the playground, along with the children running amok in delight.

"Look at them," she said bitterly to nobody but herself, and of course the tree. "So freaking happy."

A sudden gust of wind madeSantana shiver, not out of cold, but out of the overwhelming pang that she was feeling inside. She thought she should've gotten used to it by now, but…  _face it, Santana,_ she thought.  _You'll never get used to it._

She brought her knees closer to her chest and wrapped her arms around them (because if she didn't,who would?).

"Marco," she whispered to the wind.

The wind answered her nothing.

oOoOo

_"Daddy?"_

_"Yes, Santanita?"_

_"There are so many people here," 5-year-old Santana said as she tightened her little fingers around her father's hand._

_"It's a fair, Santanita," her father smiled at her. "Of course there are. Everybody's here."_

_Santana's eyes widened in horror. "Everybody?"_

_"Well, not everybody," her father laughed. "But almost everyone we know is here. There," he pointed to a middle-aged couple near the popcorn stand and Santana's gaze followed his direction. "You see? Mr. and Mrs. Wade from next door. And there's the Postman," he pointed again to a different spot. "I saw a couple of your teachers hanging around the coffee stand. And you said hi to many of your friends at the parking lot, remember? Stacey, Luke, Jennifer, Ben and that boy from the playground."_

_"Mikey."_

_"Yes, Mikey," he nodded. "Lots of people."_

_"What if I get lost? What if we get separated?" She asked again, stopping in her tracks now and effectively stopping Antonio from taking another step._

_"Hey now," he said. It was his turn to squeeze her hand. "We won't," he smiled to her again, this time earning a tiny, though still uncertain, smile from the little girl desperately clinging on to his hand._

_"Tell you what," Antonio kneeled so that he was looking straight at Santana's eyes. "If we get separated, which I'm sure we won't, you yell 'Marco' as loud as you can," he said, taking both of her hands into his. "I will hear your voice, and then I can yell back —"_

_"As loud as you can?" Santana cut him off and he chuckled back, adoring his only daughter._

_"Yes, as loud as I can. I'll yell 'Polo' back at you. And we'll keep yelling until we find each other." He brought her tiny hands to his lips and gave them a loving peck before looking up again. "How about that?"_

_Santana bit her lip. She searched her father's eyes. For what? She didn't know. She guessed, many years later, it was for some kind of a reassurance. Or maybe strength. The kind of strength that she wouldn't — couldn't — ever find in anybody else._

_Once, Violet Stubbs asked Santana when they were taking turns pushing the swing, which of her parents that she loved the most. All this time, Santana had thought she loved both of her parents equally, so she had a really hard time choosing. But Violet kept pushing and pushing for an answer, until Santana just couldn't help but yell her answer. And she was surprised. Not at the answer itself, but at how clear the answer actually was. “_ My daddy _,” she had told Violet. “_ He's my Superman _.”_

_"Okay," Santana finally told her father._

_Antonio smiled happily. "Okay? Are you sure? If you want, we can always go home."_

_Santana shook her head furiously. "No," she said, "I wanna see the fair with you."_

_And with that Santana started to walk; t his time eagerly leading Antonio to make their way through the crowd. But before they got very far, she felt a tug that made her stop._

_"Wait, Santanita."_

_She looked up to Antonio. "Sorry, Daddy. Am I going too fast?"_

_"No, no. You're fine," he kneeled again. "I just want you to know that even though we have our Marco Polo plan, and that there is an ocean of people here, you can never lose me. And you know why?" He flicked her nose gently and Santana shook her head._

_"Because_  I _won’t ever lose_ you _." Antonio said, bringing their tangled fingers right in front of their eyes and gave her hand another squeeze. "See?" he asked, and that earned himself a hug from his tiny daughter._

_"Promise, Daddy?"_

_"I won't let go if you don't, Santanita."_

oOoOo

"Liar," she said, awakened from a memory, gritting her teeth in anger. "You fucking let go _._ "

 


	2. Here We Are

 

**May 27, 2005**

Twelve-year-old Santana Lopez stood before a white front door, on the porch of a house that was, in her opinion, sickeningly perfect. Perfectly groomed rose beds, perfectly clear and shiny windows, perfect everything. There wasn't even a single crack on the paint covering the house. It was nauseating, really, but she took comfort on the fact that she hadn't seen what was on the other side of those walls, and what was there couldn't be  _that_ flawless.

"Santana, honey," said the woman next to her, a middle-aged woman with a funny name and an even funnier smell. A mix of cheap cologne and Vicks, and a hint of garlic.Santana couldn't even begin to understand that last part. How could anyone smell like garlic every. Single. Day?

"Santana," she called again.

Once again Santana didn't answer. Nor did she even bother to look up at the woman.

The woman gave in and huffed. "Santana, if you don't want to look at me, it's perfectly fine. I know you're listening."

Getting no response from the teenage girl, she continued. "The woman that you're about to meet — her name is Emma — is going to take care of you from now on, okay? She passed all the requirements so I can assure you that you will be taken care of. There are already two boys in the house. But I didn't handle their case, so I can't tell you what they're like. But I'm sure you'll get along just fine," she paused. " _Please_  try to get along, okay?"

Santana watched as the woman next to her started to knock on the door but quickly diverted her eyes once the knocking was over.

"Just a minute," said the voice from inside, and Santana had a fleeting thought about how friendly the voice was. She couldn't decide if the beating in her heart was from annoyance, the start of her breaking down, or worse: the potential of actually liking whomever it was rushing to the door.

She heard some hustling from behind the door before it was finally opened. A woman appeared from behind it, sporting a big smile. "Yes?"

"Hi," said the woman next to Santana. She extended her arm for a handshake. "I'm Maria Katorjevskaya and this is Santana. We're from the group home? We talked on the phone?"

"Oh, hello," the red-haired woman looked at Maria's hand before nervously accepting the handshake. "I'm Emma Schuester," she said as she tried to subtly wipe her hand on the apron that she was wearing. She took one look at Santana and beamed with excitement.

 _Those are really big eyes_ , Santana thought.

oOoOo

Sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room, Santana couldn't help but correct and scold herself. The interior of the house  _was_  in fact as flawless as the exterior. Everything was squeaky clean and, to her surprise (and a little bit of appreciation), the house wasn't overly decorated. All of the visible knickknacks, and there weren't too many of them, around the house seemed important — like they had certain meanings, or at least memories, behind them.

There were pictures hanging on the wall across from Santana. Not a lot, but enough to kind of introduce her to the members of her new household. There were no names or anything, but she got the gist of it. The man with the curly hair with his arms around Emma’s shoulders was probably redhead’s husband, and the two boys in a couple of the frames must’ve been the other foster kids that Maria had mentioned earlier.

"I'm sorry it's such a mess," she heard Emma say, suddenly bringing her back from her leering. Santana crunched her eyebrows together. If _this_ was a mess, the lady should really come and visit the community home that sheltered Santana for the past year. Maybe even consider becoming the cleaning lady or something. God knows that place needed some TLC; one building, thirty-seven kids. 'Messy' didn't even come close.

Santana eyed Emma closely. She was wearing a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, a pencil skirt, and a mini apron thing that had pockets on it. In the pockets were a worn out toothbrush, a piece of cloth that Santana thought looked a lot like Shamwow, and a pair of latex gloves.

Santana unconsciously nodded at her deductions. _So_   _that's_   _why the house is spotless._

Gathered with the way Emma wiped her hand right after she shook Maria's, it was obvious to Santana that she was a clean freak.

"Oh, no," Maria said. She waved her hand, dismissing Emma's apology. "Your house is lovely.  _Very_  lovely. Right, Santana?" She gently nudged Santana on the elbow and smiled.

The girl in question turned her head towards Maria, then at Emma who was sitting on an armchair right across the couch. Her hands were clasped together with their fingers intertwined. She was smiling coyly, but those eyes couldn't hide her anticipation of what Santana could say at any moment — like what other people thought of her home actually brought her joy.

Santana shrugged. She really wanted to just lie to their faces because, frankly, she didn't care about this house (or much about everything else, even). But it  _was_  kind of lovely. Certainly a huge upgrade from what she was used to and she kind of wondered what it would feel like to not live with 36 other children. So, "yes," she said simply, before looking away again. Santana missed it, but Emma’s big eyestwinkled after hearing the answer.

Santana tuned out everything that she was supposed to be hearing right now. She had heard them all before. Paperwork. Background. Regulations. State regulations. Contact numbers. Nothing mattered enough for her to be listening. Maria's voice.Emma's voice. Nothing. Not even how Emma told Maria that she would look out for Santana as long as needed, with the utmost care. She heard what Emma said, but didn't  _listen_ to it. Why should she, if people go back on their words all the time? Her own father did, so why  _should_  she bother?

Santana didn't know how much time was spent sitting there on the couch, motionless. Somewhere along the way, she ran out of things to stare at and got lost in her own thoughts. She jumped a little when she felt Maria nudge her elbow, trying to get her attention.

"Santana," Maria said. "Are you alright?"

Wordlessly, Santana shrugged. In all honesty, she didn't know — not that she cared about giving a truthful answer. She just hoped that the gesture would make them leave her alone. Luckily the woman sitting on the armchair seemed to get the message.

"Santana," Emma said as she poured some more tea into Maria's cup and Santana wished people would just stop saying her name in that tone — like they had to say it carefully so that she wouldn't break. She's not a freaking vase.

"Do you want to go upstairs and check out your room? It's the third door down. It's the one with — oh, you know what? I'm going to be quiet now. Will and I wanted to surprise you, so you go on ahead and find the room. It used to be one of the boys’ room, so we did a little something to it and made it more… _girly_." Emma did some silent, small clap. "I really, _really_ think you'd like it." She put on a big grin on her face and all Santana could think of was whether or not Emma was high on something. She _must_ be.

The way Emma was so chirpy all the time reminded Santana of a couple of her previous housemates. They were several years older than her, and no form of communication was ever shared except for a couple of polite nods — just because they were living in the same building. Sometimes those bigger kids would sneak into someone's room and get high from  _anything_  they could get a hold on. Pot. Ecstasy. Paint thinner. Seriously anything. And one girl in particular would practically hop her way from one spot to another when she was high, and talk 120mph the whole day until she would eventually crash from exhaustion.

Santana had never figured out how they were never caught. Then again, the community home had so many kids to attend to. Too many, even, that they had to relocate some children. Including Santana, and that was why she was here.

"Santana?" Emma called, looking worried because the little girl sitting on her couch didn't even budge. "Do you need me to come with you?"

Santana quickly shook her head, "no." She stood up and swung her duffel bag onto her shoulder before turning around to Maria. "Bye," she said, and without another word she made her way to the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she heard Maria say to Emma. "I know I shouldn't be making excuses, but she's been through a lot. All of our kids have."

Emma gave Maria a sad, understanding smile. "It's alright. I'm used to it. Noah and Max were that way too. Well, Noah was the harder shell to crack, actually. Max was a lovely boy from the beginning."

"Noah and Max?" Maria asked.

Emma nodded. "Noah and Max," she pointed to a picture hanging on the wall. "The two boys that Will and I took in almost a year ago."

"Oh I see," Maria smiled. She picked up her tea. "Where are they now?"

"Well, Max got a football scholarship. He left for Columbus last week, actually," Emma made small claps once again with her hands and brought them back to her knees. "It's sad that he had to go, but Will and I… we are  _so_  proud of him," she cleared her throat.

"And Noah?"

"Noah…" Emma trailed off. "He can be a little bit tricky," she smiled. "He can be difficult sometimes. He's a good boy, he's just… misguided."

"Ah," Maria nodded. "I understand completely."

oOoOo

_Third door down… Third door do— oh._

Santana stopped right in front of her door and examined the pink, flowery wooden board that was hanging on it. _Santana_ , it said in cursive letters, and the owner of that name rolled her eyes. Letting people know where to find her was definitely  _not_  in her To-Do list. Or  _any_  list, for that matter. Plus, the board was  _so_  not her. Too many flowers. Too pink. Too sweet. Too… _Emma_. So with a swift motion she yanked the board off from where it was hanging and opened the door.

"Oh my God," she said to herself the second she was in the room, mouth hung open. She put her bag down and sat on one of the two beds in the room. She looked around and she wondered if she would wake up as Emma one day, what with all the flowers on the wall, the pink sheets, and the cheesy framed stencil artwork that said "Home Sweet Home".

"I'm gonna turn into her someday, aren't I?" Emma mumbled to herself as she covered her face with her hands.

oOoOo

"So, what's Santana's story?" Emma asked the middle-aged lady in front of her. "She seems… quiet."

"She's not, really," Maria put down her teacup back onto the coaster. "She's quiet now just because she hasn't made a complete assessment about you. She might seem to be as quiet as a mouse _now_ , but she  _will_  try and tear you down."

"Oh…"

Seeing that the woman in front of her was practically green, Maria quickly added, "But I'm not telling you this to scare you away, believe me."

"Oh, no, no. I won't run away," Emma said as she waved her hand to dismiss any negative thoughts in the room. "I'm just… a little bit worried, I suppose."

Maria let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Thank you. I'm just letting you know that it  _will_  be difficult with her. We all worry about our children. They're all lost, you know?" She looked up to see Emma nod with understanding. "We're just here to help them find their way back. Some do it quickly, like Max," she pointed to the picture frame, which Emma returned with a proud smile. "And some take longer," Maria concluded.

"And Santana?" Emma turned her head towards the staircase.

Maria huffed before answering the question. "She still has a long way to go."

"That bad?"

"Well," Maria said, trying to find the right words to start the conversation. "Like I said, she's been through a lot. Maybe not as bad as some of the other kids who are currently in the system, but it's still tough to go through." She paused. "Do you want to hear the whole story?"

Emma gulped. "Yes, please."

oOoOo

"Hey," said a boy from the door.

Santana rolled her eyes. She  _knew_  she should've closed that damned door. At least she could've pretended to not hear the person standing there. It was too late now.

"Helloooo?" The boy said again, this time taking a few steps into the room, clearly curious about the new member of the household. "Man, you're a quiet one."

"Did I tell you you could come in?" Santana asked coldly without even turning around and continued unpacking her bag. She knew she didn't have a lot of stuff, so she started doing it slowly, in the hopes that the boy could see that she was, in fact, busy, and leave her alone.

"No," the boy shrugged. Obviously, her strategy didn't work. "But you didn't say I couldn't either."

"Well, you can't."

"Guess what," the boy said with a smirk. "I'm already here."

"Get out."

"Ha. How ‘bout… no," the boy laughed her off and Santana could feel her blood slowly boiling. " What's your name? I'm Puck. Emma calls me Noah. But I got Will to call me Puck, so it's just a matter of time before I get her to call me Puck too. Or maybe Puckasaurus,” he paused. “Or Puckzill—“

Santana turned around and glared at this… this  _creature_  that dared to interrupt her peace and quiet.

"I said," she hissed. "Get. Out."

Puck held both his hands up. "Okay, okay. I'm going. Jeez, rude much? No wonder you're in foster care.”

Just like that, the boy walked out of the room, leaving behind one very upset Santana. She waited a couple of seconds to make sure that Noah, Puck, or whatever his name was, was gone before slamming her door shut.

oOoOo

"She lost her mother to a car accident when she was about eight. So it was just her and her dad for a while. From what I've read on the reports and from talking to the neighbors, they were really close. I mean, even when the mother was still around, they had that special bond. She was daddy's little girl, basically," Maria smiled to Emma. A sad one, but a smile nonetheless.

"Then what happened?"

"Well," Maria cleared her throat. "Antonio Lopez loved her wife more than anything. And when she died, he just… I guess sometimes he missed her a lot more than he could handle. The neighbors said he'd act okay when Santana was around. But they could tell that in reality, the loss became too much for him. So, one unfortunate day, just before she turned nine, Santana came home from school and found her dad, um," Maria took a deep breath. "She found him hanging from the ceiling."

"Oh my God," Emma gasped. She covered her mouth with one hand.

"She found him hanging from the ceiling and the poor girl tried to untie the rope herself by climbing on top of a dresser. Of course, being still so little, she couldn't reach it. So she ran outside and knocked on the neighbor's door to get him down. The neighbor called 911, and she’s been in the system ever since," Maria elaborated. "As you know, she bounced around for a while because they had no relatives that would take her in, and that she had to stay at the group home with all the other children. But then they needed the space for the bigger kids so now… here we are."

There was a sound of a door being slammed coming from the second floor of the house, and Emma nodded. "Here we are."


	3. Doors

**Day one. Or what was left of it.**

The first night after Maria dropped her off, Santana didn't even come down for dinner. For some reason, unpacking her stuff wore her out, even though she only had one bag.  _Isn't it sad_ , she thought as she slid the duffel bag under her bed.  _One freaking bag, and it fits my whole life._

She plopped herself down on one of the two beds in the room (she chose the one that looked like it had the least flowers on its sheets) and stared at the ceiling. She lifted up one hand just to see how high it was, and the ceiling looked so far away. She was so used to sleeping in a bunk bed at the group home that now, in her new residence, it felt like she had all the space in the world and she kind of liked it. Kind of.

She didn't know how long she was lost in her thoughts. She just knew that it was already dark outside when she heard Emma knocking on her door, telling her that dinner was going to be ready in less than an hour. Then she heard a man's voice at her door about 45 minutes after that — she assumed it was Will — telling her that dinner was ready. Neither invitation got an answer from the worn girl, so both Emma and Will decided to leave her alone; which was good, because that was all Santana had wanted.

Santana stayed quiet in the darkness. She lied very still on her bed and tried to listen to the hustle and bustle from downstairs. It wasn't very hard to do, really.

First of all, she was already used to keeping still and quiet. The manager (or the 'warden', as she liked to call him) down at the group home had supersonic ears. He would bark at the children whenever they got too noisy, especially during the evening. Every now and then Santana would stare at the man from afar and try to identify any traces of bat-like features. With that super hearing (not to mention a face only a mother could love), he couldn't be  _all_  human.

Second of all, she had noticed that the doors had gaps under them and they brought drafts  _and_  voices into rooms even though they were all seemingly closed. Funnily enough, that was something that kind of pacified her — that there  _was_  something less than immaculate in this house. Throughout the afternoon, she couldn't stop thinking about how  _freaking fantastic_  it was that she was now living with a real life Bree Van Der Kamp. Oh yeah, she knew the show. The group home only had one TV for the whole building, and that meant watching whatever it was the supervisor on duty was watching.

"Why isn't she coming down?" Puck asked and even though walls separated them, Santana didn't miss the annoyed tone in his voice.

"Noah," Emma pointedly said to him. "She probably fell asleep. When I was up there, I didn't see any lights from under the door."

"Yeah, but you made all these food for her," Puck said again. "She's being ungrateful. I mean, I know I can be a jerk sometimes, but I still respect people." He paused. "AT LEAST I APPRECIATE IT WHEN SOMEONE MADE ME A WHOLE DAMN FEAST," he yelled with his head turned towards the staircase just to make sure the new girl heard it, and he quickly got scolded by Will calling his name.

oOoOo

**Day two.**

"Emma said lunch is gonna be ready in half an hour."

 _I_ really _need to start double checking if the door's properly closed_ , Santana mentally kicked herself. She didn't answer Puck with anything. Hopefully he would magically disappear if she just ignored him.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Puck took her silence as a permission to enter the room and made his way around it, stopping at random things that attracted his eyes. He was very thorough with his exploration. Sometimes he'd lift an item up, bring it closer to his eyes, inspect the object, and put it back onto its original spot.

Nothing was missed. The closet, the random tchotchkes that Emma had put on top of the dresser, Santana's hairbrush on the vanity, even that 'Home Sweet Home' stencil. Every few seconds Santana would steal glances at him from behind the old piece of newspaper that she was reading, making sure he didn't cross the line further with her belongings. She tried not to care, but the next thing she knew the boy had gotten that much closer to where she was sitting. She couldn't help but being annoyed.

"Go away," she told him with her best scowl.

"I just want to get to know you," he turned to face her. “I mean, we’re living in the same house now.”

"Yeah, well I don't want to get to know  _you,_ " she spat back.

Puck scoffed. "You're feisty," he said. "And pretty, too. Too bad you're a… you know, a total bitch." He paused. "Don't tell Will and Emma I said that."

Santana huffed. This boy was seriously annoying.

"Why are you reading a newspaper that's 2 years old?"

Santana felt her heart jump out of her ribcage. "None of your business," she said quickly in an irritated tone. She neatly, protectively, folded the newspaper, opened the nightstand's top drawer and lied the newspaper down carefully before closing the drawer again.

"Do I need to kick you in the fucking balls — and trust me, I have no problem with reducing your chances of ever having spawns to none — or are you going to leave me alone?" She asked Puck, totally annoyed by his invasion.

"You said the F word," Puck gasped and his eyes widened. It was not like he didn't know the word, but Will and Emma would never approve that sort of language in the house. And like he said the other night, he might be a jerk, but he respected Will and Emma enough to actually change his behavior in the house.

Santana shrugged. "You called me a bitch."

oOoOo

**Day Three.**

Both Puck and Will were missing from the breakfast table that morning. Santana snuck a glance at the empty chairs and pretended that she didn't even notice they were gone. Unfortunately, Emma turned around just in time to see the girl's failed attempt at hiding her curiosity.

"Noah has a football game with the neighborhood kids. Will likes to cheer him on, just like we cheered on Max," Emma explained with a warm smile. After a few seconds of silence and what seemed to be contemplation on her end, Emma cleared her throat and put on a serious face. "I need to give you a heads up about something," she said. "Noah is very sensitive about his dad. He left when Max and Noah were very little, so it's still a sore subject and he doesn't like to talk about it. The only reason I'm telling you this is to avoid future misunderstandings. So, please don't bring it up, okay?"

Santana nodded wordlessly and that satisfied Emma. She then put a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of the girl.

"You didn't have dinner last night. So eat up!" Emma handed Santana a fork with the prongs facing in. When the girl took the fork, Emma gave her a smile and just like the first day they had met, she did a small applause. Santana wasn't sure if the applause was intended for her, or if it was done to cheer on Emma herself. Either way, it was somewhat creepy. Not to mention extremely lame.

Emma went back to the stove and started cleaning the mess that she created while she was fixing breakfast. "Oh," she suddenly said, looking over her shoulder. "How do you like your room, Santana?" the woman asked. For a brief moment she held her stare on Santana, but she turned back around again to continue her cleaning spree. Santana observed her shoulders moving furiously as she scrubbed the kitchen counter and shook her head. There was barely any mess on it when she came down for breakfast. She could've just swiped the whole area with a wet paper towel but no, that wouldn't do for this crazy lady.

She lowered her eyes and started to push her food around. How  _did_ she like the room? It was okay, she guessed. Definitely an upgrade from the bunk beds at the group home. At least now she had privacy — all she needed to do was close the door and people could leave her alone. So she guessed she kind of liked it. Of course, she reminded herself that she couldn't. But it was nobody's business to know what she thought. So Santana, like always, shrugged. "It's… pink," she said. The best answer she could think of without revealing anything. No 'yes', no 'no', no feelings revealed. Safest answer there was.

oOoOo

**Day Four.**

The next morning, Santana woke up (really) early. Three AM early. All of her doing nothing the day before took its toll on her and she actually got annoyed at the fact that it wasn't even morning yet when her back started to hurt from lying down too much. She got out of the room quietly and locked herself in the bathroom just because she didn't want to be in her bed any longer.

She spent the first 20 minutes sitting on the edge of the bathtub with her left foot tapping on the floor. Sometimes she'd tap it to whatever song that she was singing in her head, sometimes she'd tap it just because. Then she spent another 20 minutes reading all the labels on the random bottles and packaging she found in the cabinet. After that, she contemplated mixing some cleaning agents found under the sink to see if any combination would result in an explosion. She had seen some kids from the group home prank the janitor. They blew up a bottle of Clorox in one of the bathrooms. She thought it was mean at first, but then she saw the bathroom tiles turn light blue from plain white and she quickly dismissed the thought. It looked pretty,  _and_  she was pretty sure the tiles would stay clean for 30 long years.

She smirked to her reflection on the bathroom mirror. _I'm doing Lady Clean Freak a favor_ , she told herself. But just when she started to uncap one of the bottles, she heard a knock on the door.

"Santana," it was Will's voice. "Are you okay in there?"

With a huff and an eye roll, Santana quickly put the cleaning product back into its place and closed the cupboard.

"Oh, good. You're alright," Will said to her when she finally opened the door. “I didn’t hear any sound from the bathroom so I was afraid you fainted or something," he put his hand lightly on her shoulder and Santana flinched a little.

She wasn't used to people touching her. At least, not anymore. If there was anything the past three years had taught her, it was that less physical contact meant less emotional attachment. A million times better than the opposite. Why waste your time getting to know people, or getting them to know you, if they would just leave in the end, right? It’s not like you could take a friend down your grave anyway.

Santana made the tiniest movement with her shoulder so that Will would take his hand off her. Luckily the man got the hint.

"Sorry," he said with a guilty grimace on his face. He took a step back and, even though he was still right in front of her, gave Santana a small, awkward wave. "I'm Will. Emma's husband."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I know."

"Oh," Will was taken aback already with her hostility. "Okay. Great. Um, sorry I haven't been around. Been busy with end-of-semester meetings with the teachers at McKinley High, then I went to Puck's game yesterday. One of the parents invited us to an after game barbecue, and when we got home Emma said you were already asleep in your room."

Santana shrugged and crossed her arms. "Whatever. It's fine." She diverted her gaze to Puck who had just gotten up and was now leaning on his doorway, smirking at the sight of her and Will. "Didn't care," Santana said to Will coldly while keeping her eyes at Puck.

"Oh. Uh, alright then," Will said again, taking a step back. Watching her face turn unfriendly while looking right past him, he turned around to see what was behind him. Sure enough, he saw Puck making faces at Santana.

"Puck," he called. "Go get ready, buddy. The fish won't wait for us."

Puck beamed. "Awesome," he said with a fist pump.

Even though she didn't show it, Santana was genuinely surprised to see such a happy face. She tried to, but she couldn't remember the last time she had seen a boy with that particular expression. Then again, her previous living arrangement wasn't exactly the happiest place on earth — so she shouldn't have been this upset about not being able to remember the last time she saw her own face contort into joy like that.

After Puck went back into his room, Will turned around to give Santana an apologetic smile and mentioned to her that he had promised to take Puck fishing — not that she hadn't figured it out herself.

"We're going to camp out, so we won't be home until late tomorrow," he said. "Looks like it's just you and Emma these two days. Fun, right? Woo!" He made a lame attempt to cheer but his hands came back down again when he saw that the girl in front of him was clearly unimpressed.

Santana gave him a half-assed smile and stepped away. She didn't see Will or Puck again before they drove off to whatever lake they were heading to.

The rest of Santana's day went by smoothly. She fixed herself some cereal for breakfast and sat out on the porch the whole day people watching, while Emma, being the crazy obsessed lady that she was, seemed to be having fun with her toothbrush and rags re-polishing all of the perfectly polished surfaces in the house. The only time they spoke to each other was when the lady of the house fixed them both lunch and dinner. Emma asked her easy questions and Santana would answer with a simple 'yes', 'no', or an 'I guess', but the older woman never once forced her to explain her answer. Not that Santana would've had given her any.

oOoOo

**Day five.**

"Santana," called Emma from behind the refrigerator door. She had spent the whole afternoon rearranging things in the kitchen according to their expiration dates, and it sounded like she was finally happy with the result. "Would you like to come with me to get some groceries for dinner?"

Santana didn't answer right away. The truth is, she didn't know if she wanted to or not. On one hand, she was dead bored. Staring at the ceiling had lost its appeal after the first day. At least when she was still living in the group home there was a lot of distractions. She didn't interact much with any of the kids there — in fact, most of them intentionally avoided her as best as they could and that was something she was proud of — but when there was absolutely nothing else to do, she could always hang back and observe her housemates as they created a ruckus over everything without getting any intrusions. This house, however, didn't have anything else besides the TV. And she was  _not_  ready to become best friends with Maury and Judge Judy.

On the other hand, getting groceries would mean actually spending the day with Emma — something that she'd never had to do before. It meant that she would have to ride in the same car, stroll down the same aisles (presumably side by side, with Emma picking up the items and her pushing the cart), and then spend more time putting away the groceries once they got home. Sure, they had successfully spent the first three days without any incidents, but that was because Santana spent most of her time in her room while Emma was completely lost in her dust busting superhero duties.

So.

Groceries?

Or watch Judge Judy lay down the law to a couple of hillbillies?

Seeing the lines that were formed on Santana's face, Emma took a few steps towards her. "You know what?" she said with a big smile. "I'm going to decide for you, and you're going with me. So go get changed. I'll see you in the car. Come on," she beckoned with her hand. "Chop-ch—"

"Excuse me?" Santana cut her off. She couldn't believe her ears. Sure, she was having a hard time deciding, but who made this mad woman queen?

"You're  _deciding_  for me?" She asked Emma, with her fingers in the air, making exaggerated quotation marks.

Emma's smile faltered. She opened her mouth to try and rephrase the things that she had said. But before she got anything out, Santana was already standing on her feet, ready to tear her down.

"No. You listen to me,  _Emma_. I didn't have a say about this," Santana waved her hands around, gesturing between her and Emma, "this  _dumb_ living arrangement. I was perfectly  _fine_  living in that stupid barn with 30 other kids. You may  _think_  that you own me because you took me in, but you're wrong," she continued. Her voice got louder and louder with every word coming out of her mouth. Emma just stood there. Both of her hands gripped the hem of her apron and started twisting it nervously. She bit her lip so hard that she could taste iron in her mouth.

"Let's be real here. You're doing this for your own selfish reasons. The only reason why you're _so_ willing to take kids like me in is because you  _like_ playing house. You  _like_  cleaning things that don't need to be cleaned. You  _like_  cooking food for people because a) it makes you feel good, and b) otherwise you'll be eating alone. You're not in it because you care. You're just in it because you like how  _pretending_  you care makes you feel. Now excuse me because I  _just_  decided that I'm  _not_ coming with you to get groceries."

Santana made her way upstairs, intentionally bumping into Emma's shoulder as she walked. She stopped halfway up the staircase to give Emma her last piece of mind before continuing her steps. "I'll be out of here in the morning. Don't even bother calling my caseworker. I'm sure the group home will have an extra mattress somewhere."

Once Emma realized what the 12-year-old was saying, she snapped out of her shock and turned around. "Santana," she tried to call the young girl, but all she got was the sound of the door being slammed.

oOoOo

**Day 6. Well, almost.**

Santana jolted up from her sleep. She felt a presence in her room, and for a short while she thought she was having a heart attack when she saw a dark shadow in the corner. She had always thought she would die young, but she never thought it would happen in her own room — well, soon to be ex-room. Once that shadow started talking, though, she started breathing normally again. It was just Puck.

"What the hell did you say to her?" Puck asked and for the first time ever since the day she stepped into that house, Santana felt threatened. This was not the Puck she had talked to the day before, but she wasn't about to admit that she was actually scared.

"What the hell?" she scowled. "It's almost freaking midnight!" Santana turned on the light that was sitting on the nightstand and got out of her bed. "And don't you ever knock?" She crossed her arms waiting for an answer and fixed her stare at his eyes.

Puck didn't back down. He took a step forward and maintained their eye contact. "I only knock on a door when I'm sure that the person inside is worth the effort," he said coldly, and Santana scoffed. "I'm going to ask you again," he said. " _What_  did you say to her?"

Santana scrunched her eyebrows. She took another step because she wasn't happy that Puck, once again, was invading her space. "You have a habit of asking about things that aren't your business, don't you?"

"What," he took another step, "did you say," and another, "to her?"

Santana gulped, and she thanked God that the room wasn't lit enough for Puck to see that her front wavered. She needed to be in control, and Puck wasn't giving her a way out. So she made one. She walked to the door, opened it, and made a gesture with her hands that told Puck he needed to leave.

"For the millionth time this week," she said to Puck. "Get. Out."

Puck didn't move. "I won't go. Not until you answer. Tell me what you said to her. Why was she scrubbing the kitchen tiles like a maniac when Will and I got home?"

Santana laughed. "What? You came sneaking into my room because she was scrubbing the tiles? Newsflash, you idiot. She's a clean freak. She'd scrub anything in sight."

"NOT AT 10.30 AT NIGHT!" Puck yelled at her unexpectedly and Santana jumped. She couldn't believe how mad Puck was. She could see the veins popping on his forehead and the shade of red that was starting to creep up his face.

"Calm down, dumbass. You're gonna wake up everyone," she said, trying to regain control.

"Nobody's here," said Puck, now with a lower volume. "Will took Emma for ice cream to calm her down." He paused, taking deep, deep breaths. "Do you have  _any_ idea what you've done? Do you? She was doing  _so_ well with her OCD. I don't know what caused it in the first place, but I _know_ she was getting better. Her therapy was working. Her doctor said she could start taking less medication. We were  _so_  proud of her. Will. Max. Me. All of us."

Santana shifted her weight from one foot to the other but kept her eye contact. She wasn't sure why she hadn't kicked him in the nuts yet for creeping into her room, but  _screw him if he thought I would give in_ , she thought.

"And she was  _so_  freaking happy that there was going to be a girl living with us. But you? You ruined everything," Puck walked in her direction and talked through his gritted teeth. "Will and Emma are my family. You mess with my family, you mess with me. You thought just because you had a bad past, you're privileged to act like a bitch to everyone. Guess what, Santana? The world doesn't revolve around you!"

Puck poked her shoulder and Santana lost her cool. She slapped away Puck's hand. "Get your hands off me! You know nothing about me!" She didn't hesitate to yell at her speaking opponent now that she knew the house was empty.

"I know enough! I know you lost both your parents and that's how you ended up in the system like me!"

"Yeah, well at least I know they're not coming back because they _can't_ ," she hissed at him. She was relieved that Will apparently only told him the gist of it, and not her full story. "What about you, huh? Your dad is still alive somewhere, but he's not coming back because guess what, Puck? He doesn't want you!"

Puck's eyes widened and his face was red all over. "You take that back!"

Santana scoffed. "No."

"Take that back!" Puck yelled. He kept reminding himself that hitting a girl was never an option. But oh, how he wished that it were. "Take that back or I'll make you pay."

"I can't take back the truth," Santana smirked smugly and rested her hands on her waist. She wasn't afraid of him anymore. She won this round. Or so she thought, before Puck launched his fist to a spot on the wall right next to Santana's temple.

"Your dad," Puck said slowly, now with tears brimming in his eyes. "Your dad killed himself." He then pulled his hand and rubbed his knuckle on his way out. "He didn't love you enough to stay."

Once Puck was no longer in the room, Santana clenched her jaw. She stood there, in shock, just like how Emma had stood still in the living room earlier in the day. The difference was that Emma had her cleaning supplies, a husband, and apparently a really obnoxious boy who genuinely cared about his foster parents, ready to comfort her. Santana? Santana had nothing. All she had was herself. And so, as soon as she heard Puck's door being slammed shut, she slumped back against the wall and wrapped her arms around herself. In the middle of her crying (which she continued until she fell asleep), she bitterly laughed at how pathetic it was for her to not having anybody to hold on to.

oOoOo

**Day six. The real day six.**

"You were right, Santana," a voice startled her as Santana tiptoed to the front door at breaking dawn with her duffel bag on her shoulder. It was Emma, sitting in an armchair in the living room where she sat the first day Santana had stepped her foot into the house.

"I am  _all_  those things. I'm a clean freak. I  _love_  playing house. I  _love_ cooking for people because a) it  _does_  make me feel good, and b) I really, _really_  don't like eating alone. And I was… wrong… to be so bold as I was that I forgot that you can make your own decisions." She paused and took a deep breath.

"But you were wrong about one thing. I may have my own selfish reasons, but I  _do_  care," she stood up. "And I care enough that I wouldn't mind it one bit if you think I'm pretending. Whatever it takes to make you stay, Santana. I mean it." Emma searched for the girl's eyes. It wasn't very easy to do in the darkness, but she saw them and there was doubt in those eyes. A good kind of doubt.

"If it means leaving you alone every once in a while, I'll do it. I promise I'll do it. And you don't have to like this house," she continued. "If to you what I'm doing is pretending, then maybe," Emma asked carefully. "Then maybe you can pretend too?"


	4. Poke

When she arrived at the group home after that little incident with Emma a little over a week ago, Maria the Garlic Lady laid down the law and told Santana that there were no more rooms, space, or even mattresses to accommodate her, even after Santana threatened Maria and told her that it didn't matter anyway because she could just sleep on some bench in the park. But Maria knew it was an empty threat and that Santana, as much as she hated to admit it, wasn't  _that_ adventurous. So Maria threatened her back — or at least, that was what it sounded like.

Maria had told Santana that if she didn't want to work with the situation and live with the Schuesters, she had no choice but to brave the Juvenile Center until the caseworker could find her a new place. In the back of her mind, Santana was sure that the threat was as empty as hers. But there were so many 'what-ifs' in her head and one of them was 'what if it wasn't?' Santana had a lot of ego, but she wasn't stupid. Just because some kids thought she was scary, it didn't mean she would survive a couple of weeks in the Center.

So, that very afternoon, Maria automatically won the staring contest when Santana abruptly turned on her heels and started to walk to the door without saying a word to wait for the middle-aged woman on a bench just outside her office.

Maria dropped her off at the Schuester residence not long after that and, much to Santana's dismay, apologized for Santana's behavior. Emma gave Maria a small, grateful smile, and she gave Santana nothing else but the same smile and two words, "welcome home."

oOoOo

Santana was going through her days in a coma-like state. It was like she was there, but not really. It was all a routine that her body was programmed to do: get out of bed, go downstairs, eat breakfast, shower, do nothing, get lunch, do nothing, have dinner and finally sleep.

Sometimes she would do a little bit of exploring; scoping out the neighborhood for something worthy of her attention. She made a few stops at the ice cream parlor, a sorry little excuse for a bookstore (what was she supposed to do with all those dictionaries?), the library (that smelled like mold — which couldn't be good for the books, by the way), a toy store (she stepped right back out because the sound of kids laughing annoyed her), and the grocery store (she didn't even know why she bothered). But most of the time she kind of just… drifted along.

She would do almost everything she was asked (because it seemed to satisfy the three other people living in that house and it shut them up faster), and answered whenever she was asked— although only with a word. Three, tops. She  _never_  initiated a conversation, though. If  _she_  was the one with the question, she would make an effort of figuring things out on her own rather than actually asking. Asking, in her mind, equaled crying for help. Crying for help, to her logic, meant attachment. And Santana was feeling attached enough by living under Will and Emma's roof. She wasn't sure if she could handle any more of it.

On a positive note, Emma stayed true to her promise. The whole house seemed to be giving Santana a lot of space. Will never made another mistake of touching her and so far, Puck hadn't set another foot inside her bedroom — even though it was probably because he was invited to go camping with his friends and he hadn't been around at all. But that pacified the girl. At least for now.

"Santana," she heard a voice from behind her. She put down the dishes she was politely asked to do after breakfast and turned off the water. She might be bitter, but she still cared about the world's water supply.

When she turned around, Emma was standing on the doorway looking all proper and beautified. She was wearing make up and was dressed in a semi-formal outfit that included, once again, a pencil skirt, an ivory blouse and a mustard sweater. Santana almost rolled her eyes at Emma's predictable ensemble, but in all honesty, she thought that the look fit the older woman and was  _almost_  worthy of a compliment. Almost.

"I'm going to see Maria for a bit and won't be back until around four," Emma said. She grabbed the car keys and weighed them for a second. She looked at Santana. "Do you…" she cleared her throat. "Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?"

Santana shook her head and crossed her arms. She would rather stay put than to go on a car ride with Emma. Who knew what kind of small talks the woman would attempt?

Emma smiled tight-lipped. "Okay, well," she said as she opened her purse. She pulled out a $10 bill and put it on the counter. "You can grab some ice cream down at the creamery? Will and I usually eat them at the park. How about that?" Emma slid the money further towards Santana and the young girl examined Emma's face. There was a proud anticipation written on it, as if she was sure she was making way, piercing through Santana's fences.

Santana scoffed internally. She uncrossed her arms and reached for the money.

"Don't want it," she said, sliding it back to Emma. She turned around and continued doing the dishes. It wasn't long until she heard the front door being opened and closed, and the sound of Emma's car leaving the driveway.

A couple of hours later, without taking the money that Emma had deliberately left on the kitchen counter, Santana decided to go to the ice cream parlor anyway, even though she knew she wasn't going to get anything.

The place was busy with customers, but nobody actually sat down to finish their sundaes. Everybody, except a couple of senior citizens, headed outside as soon as their orders were ready.

_Ah,_  Santana thought.  _The park. Where all the predictable folks go._ She gave herself an eye roll when she realized that her legs were already taking her to the same place. How pathetic.

So she walked. She walked and hummed and quietly sang all the songs she had in her head all the way to the park. Not one of them was current. A part of her thought it was cool to know songs that nobody else her age did, but the other part was regretting the fact that every single one of those songs reminded her of that part of her life that wasn't there anymore.

When her parents were still alive, the small Lopez clan had a Sunday morning tradition. Santana's mother, Ines, would occupy the kitchen and make them a whole feast (even though there were only three people in the house) and Santana would help as much as she could with her little hands. Antonio would put on music — always the same record — and travel his way to the kitchen to pull his wife away from the spices. " _Bailar conmigo,"_ he would say, and Ines would always fight him and say no. But they all knew she would eventually dance and twirl in his arms.

Little Santana would watch them go around the house, laughing and sometimes singing along — she knew all the words — before Ines would declare that it was enough and she needed to go back to cooking. By then, the record would have gone more than half way through and Antonio would sweep Santana off her feet and dance with his little girl until the very last note.

" _Just call my name,"_ he would sing and Santana would finish the words with a big smile, _"and I'll be there."_

The memory ended and Santana stopped walking. She was already in the park and standing right before a tree at a desolate area. She stared at it, up and down — and then she did a 360 and got a glimpse of the whole park. It sounded shamelessly inauthentic (not to mention creepy), but she decided to ask anyway, "what's a big tree like you doing in a place like this?"

Something drew her to it, but she couldn't really put a finger on what it was. She put her hand up over the bark and felt each wrinkle, each crease with her fingertips.  _So rough_ , she thought, but it didn't stop her from leaning her back against it.

She sat down, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. With every breath she could feel her heart expand from remembering all the sounds, the smells. The way the floor tiles had grazed her little feet when she was dancing.

It was beautiful, her life. So full of love, Sunday mornings and dancing.

The wind blew her a breeze and she felt the corners of her mouth twitch and she surrendered into a smile that she let linger simply because it felt really nice.

" _He didn't love you enough to stay."_

Santana's eyes snapped open. She was brought back to reality and just like the first time she heard Puck say it, she clenched her jaw. She was angry. Angry with Puck, angry with Will and Emma for not being able to shut their mouths about her past, but most of all, she was angry with herself.

oOoOo

"So where did you go?" Emma asked Santana, passing the vegetables to Will with her right hand. "You got home pretty late."

"The park." Short and not so sweet.

"Oh?" Will smiled. "Did you like it? It's a great park, right?" He asked as he scooped himself a good helping of peas. "Maybe this weekend we can all go to the park and have a picnic. Us three and Puck. He'll be home tomorrow from camping."

Will went on and on telling the table all the things he liked about the park and Santana conjured up some plans in her head on how to make the man stop talking. The lines on his face, particularly the ones around his mouth, and how they moved every time he spoke up, somehow made him even more obnoxious and Santana just wanted to punch him in the face. If it weren't for the fact that there was good food between them, she would've probably lunged at him.

"Look. I don't care, okay?" Santana finally snapped. "I don't care about the stupid playground, the stupid lake, or how you guys being all gooey and disgusting. I went to the park. It was okay. The end."

Santana stabbed her peas with her fork. She couldn't care less if she had offended Will. In her defense, Will offended her first with his overuse of hair products and cheap cologne. So if Will was going to comment about her little remark, Santana was ready to fire a comeback. But, lucky for her (more so for Will, actually), Emma swooped in by putting a hand over Will's and effectively made the man turn his face away from the girl. Soon enough the couple was content talking in their own little bubble. Santana wasn't sure if Emma did it because she really had something to say to Will or if she was just keeping her promise. Either way, Santana was happy about not having Will annoy the hell out of her.

"… and then Maria said we'll be taking in another girl," Emma did her little applause thing again. "Yay!"

_Wait, what?_ Santana blinked her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed and her fork stopped midair from shoving carrots into her mouth. Did she hear right or was she imagining things?

"That's wonderful," said Will, echoing his wife's enthusiasm. "Did you hear that, Santana? You're going to have a roommate!"

oOoOo

**_Child Found Father Dead After Losing Mother in Car Crash_ **

_[Lima] A West Belleville man found dead from an apparent suicide in his home, the Lima County Medical Examiner's Office has said._

_Antonio Lopez, 38, was discovered Tuesday by his nine-year-old daughter hanging lifeless from the ceiling fan just months after losing his wife to a tragic accident. The little girl, who had just come home from school, attempted to get him down before knocking on the neighbor's door._

_"It was so sad. I couldn't believe that the girl had to witness all of this. She was crying when she knocked on my door and my wife was consoling her," said Charles Stubbs. "But by the time we got Antonio down, someone from the police department already took her away. I hope she's safe with family somewhere."_

_Helen Stubbs, wife of Charles, who's known the family for years, said that the deceased "was a good man. Very polite, always smiling. When his wife passed away, he was truly broken. But I've never seen him being extremely troubled about it. He took care of his daughter, that I know. They were very close. It's almost surreal that this happened. I still can't believe it."_

_We were told that there was no foul play in this case and that the daughter will be placed under foster care for the time being._

Santana huffed. Why was she doing this to herself? Reading an article that was 2 years old, over and over again until her eyes eventually gave out?

_No matter how many times you read that, Santana,_ she told herself,  _it's not going to help you._ ' _For the time being' turned out to be the longest while ever._

A certain boy's head appeared from behind her door and once again Santana's time alone was interrupted. "Hey, did you hear? There's gonna be another girl in the house!"

Santana looked at the voice owner. She wasn't going to response, but then Puck opened the door wider and took a step in. She just had to. "Unless you have a more important, pressing news to tell me,  _dickwad,_ get out now," she growled, eyes still busy with her reading.

"What? Like that old newspaper could give you better stuff?" Puck motioned towards Santana's hands. "What is it with you and that newspaper anyway?"

Santana kept her cool and just like the last time, she placed the item back into the drawer. "Why didn't a bear maul you or something? Why couldn't your friends just leave you out there in the woods? That seemed to help _someone._ "

"Don't go there."

"I'll go anywhere I want to," Santana said, challenging the boy. "Besides, you didn't seem to have a problem about it yourself."

Puck balled his fist. This is one tough girl. "I'm not going to apologize for that—"

"Don't want you to."

"You pushed me—"

Santana raised her left hand and stopped Puck from talking and scoffed. "Oh, please, Jungle Boy. I told you to leave and you didn't. I didn't invite you. You invaded my privacy — just like how you're invading it right now," she said. " _You_  pushed  _me."_

Puck lifted both his arms in exasperation and growled. "Fine," he said. "You know what, I hope whoever it is that's going to be your roommate has a really tough skin and a better attitude. Then hopefully Will and Emma will kick your ass out and turn this room into just hers."

Santana shrugged. "Wouldn't want it any other way," she coldly said.

After a pregnant pause and a few steps to the door, Puck turned around. "Well, since you're so happy about getting a roommate, let me just tell you that she's coming in about an hour."

oOoOo

At exactly four o'clock, 20 hours after Emma broke the news to Will and Santana, Maria came knocking at the front door.

"Hi, Emma," Maria said when she saw the person opening the door. She gave Emma a light hug with one arm because there was a girl attached to her other hand. "This is Brittany," Maria told her, and the blonde-haired girl let go of Maria's hand.

"Hi, I'm Brittany," she said. She stretched her arm out to offer Emma a handshake.

Emma, a little startled but enamored by Brittany already, took the girl’s hand after taking a glance, making sure it was clean enough.

"Hello, Brittany. I'm Emma," she smiled. "That's a really good handshake!"

Brittany beamed. "Thank you! My dad taught me that. He told me that first impressions are important," said Brittany with a scrunch on her face, looking all serious.

"Really?" Emma smiled. "Your dad was a very smart man, then."

"Yeah," Brittany's light blue eyes changed hues and if Emma had to describe it, it was the saddest shade of blue she had ever seen. But it didn't last long, to Emma's relief. Brittany put on a smile, though still with a hint of sadness behind it. "Yeah he was," she said. "He was."

oOoOo

"Um," Santana heard a voice on her door and immediately she knew it was her new roommate. She laid still and didn't bother turning around.

"Hi," the voice said again, this time she also heard a knock on her door. A little bit late, but at least  _this_  intruder actually did it, unlike Puck. "I'm Brittany."

Santana stuck to her go-to plan A — which is to always ignore people first to see if they would just go away. It was a silly plan, really. Nobody ever went away. But Santana was a big believer of _if-at-first-you-don't-succeed_ philosophy.

"Um," Brittany spoke again, this time with a whisper. "Are you sleeping? I'm sorry. But Emma told me I could go sleep in this room. She said I'm sharing a room with 'Santana'. You weren't there during dinner so I  _hope_ you're Santana… otherwise I'm going to have to remember another name, and I'm not really good with names," she rambled.

Santana heard a way out. Brittany had asked her if she was sleeping, and that was exactly what she was going to pretend to do. She pulled her blanket over her head, but she left a little opening near her ear so that she could listen to her surroundings.

Brittany whispered again. "Hey,  _Maybe Santana_?" She received no answer. "Maybe Santana… if Santana's really your name, I think it's really pretty. But if it's not then it's totally fine too." A pause. "So, uh, I really don't want to bother you, so if you can probably hear me in your sleep, I'm just letting you know that I'm coming into the room so you won't be, like, surprised or anything when you wake up."

Santana shuffled underneath the covers just to make her act convincing as Brittany carefully, quietly shut the door.

oOoOo

Around midnight Santana woke up because she had to use the bathroom. She rubbed as much sleep out of her eyes as possible and started to walk to the door. On her way, she saw a big bundle of… _something_ … between the door and the closet but she didn't pay any attention to it. It wasn't until after she got back from the bathroom that she realized that the bundle had blonde hair.

Santana hovered in front of that bundle and carefully nudged it with the tip of her toes.

Nothing happened.

She did it again. This time, the bundle's outer layer, which was a pink coat, dropped onto the floor.

"Mom," the bundle deliriously whined, "I don't want to go to school."

Santana scrunched her forehead, confused. She poked harder with her toes and the blonde girl on the floor woke up with a start.

"Oh," Brittany said, smiling. "Hi, Maybe Santana." Her eyes were draped with sleep and she was ready to continue whatever dream she was having.

"Why the hell are you sleeping on the floor?" Santana rolled her eyes at herself. She couldn't believe that she actually asked, but she had. She was a bit disappointed with her curiosity, but she might as well get a complete answer. "There's a bed right there."

Brittany kept her eyes shut, but she answered anyway. "Didn't know if I was allowed. Didn't wanna wake you up," she mumbled. "Go back to sleep."

If the room had been brighter, and if her eyes were actually open, Brittany would've seen how Santana's cold eyes turned softer because of her answer. Only for a second, though. Her fences came back up, complete with barbed wire, as soon as Santana herself realized the brief shift in her heart. Brittany's half-conscious reply had affected her. She felt a little bit of guilt growing inside, but she dismissed it as much as she could. Not her fault Brittany was sleeping on the floor.

Well, okay, maybe it was.

Still standing up, Santana poked again with her foot. "Get up," she said. "The bed's yours."

Getting no response but a light snore from the newcomer, Santana gave in and got on her knees. She mulled over it for a moment, but she finally put a hand on Brittany's shoulder. She whispered, but made it sound as harsh as she could. "Wake up," she shook Brittany's shoulder. When Brittany's effort to open her eyes worked, Santana pointed at the never used bed next to hers. "You can sleep on that bed," she said.

Brittany sleepily looked at the bed, then at the girl in front of her. She smiled.

"You're pretty," said Brittany, before she crawled and climbed up her bed.

Maybe it was her guilt, or maybe because flattery actually worked, but Santana made sure Brittany was completely under the covers before she climbed into her own bed and went back to sleep. And just when she was about to drift back to sleep, she heard a drowsy voice from the other bed. "Goodnight, Maybe Santana."


	5. Crack

Do you know the crackling sound of tempered glass breaking into a million of tiny pieces? Santana knew it well.

Santana would hear it every time someone danced in front of her. She would hear it every time Will playfully, but wholeheartedly, sang a song to Emma or vice versa. She would hear it whenever Puck got a pat on the back from Will, or an extra piece of chicken from Emma. And back when she was still living with 30 other children, Santana would hear it whenever a kid from the group home got adopted, or was visited (and taken home, sometimes) by their relatives.

There was a time when Santana would think that it was just a weird thing everyone heard in their heads — like the sound of waves that you get from covering your ears with your hands. But she never could explain the violent heartbeat that would always, _always_ come with it, until one day Santana heard the sound and felt the thud when she was about to cross a certain unfortunate intersection downtown. She knew right away what it was.

Heartbreak.

oOoOo

The morning after her and Brittany's first meeting, the feeling was particularly overwhelming. Santana, grudgingly, threw her covers open at 6.30 AM to the torturous sound of laughter coming from outside her walls. She could hear Emma, Will, and another voice that she couldn't recognize yet.

_Oh._

She looked to her left and immediately drew a conclusion: Brittany.

 _This cannot be good_ , she thought. Santana knew right away that her new roommate was trouble. Not only that it was  _that_  early in the morning, but also because Santana used to be the reason why a house would light up. Hearing Brittany, and the rest of the house, laughing hysterically at whatever it was (it might as well be her) just reminded Santana that it was something she could never get back.

Santana sat up on her bed and let her feet hang freely from its edge. The laughter grew louder and louder. The cracking noise in her head suddenly thundered and the thud, thud, thud inside her chest just wouldn't stop.

Santana closed her eyes and gripped the sheets with both her hands. Somehow her breathing had become erratic and she had to calm herself down.  _Breathe,_ Santana told herself and concentrated on slowing down her heart rate.

She hated the feeling. That sound. That excruciating helplessness.

"Hi, roomie!"

A cheerful voice almost made her jump. Santana opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was the way Brittany's blonde hair seemed to reflect all the light coming in from the window. It was too pretty and Santana didn't like it even though she wasn't sure why it bothered her so much. She balled her fist. Brittany and her antics made her woke up too early, and she caused this mini-meltdown. She did  _not_  just 'hey' her.

Lucky for Brittany, though, the raven-haired girl on the bed was still focusing on getting her breaths even. So Santana closed her eyes again and didn't answer. No snarky comments. She didn't have the energy. Not now at least.

Brittany scrunched her eyebrows together. She took a few steps forward entering the room.

"Are you okay?" she wanted to know, and when she didn't get an answer, Brittany asked again. "Do you need me to call Emma?"

Santana heard the question and shook her head without delay. It was bad enough that a girl that she hadn't even known for more than 2 minutes (last night's incident totally didn't count) saw her like this. She wasn't about to let anybody else in the house kn about it.

"Okay," she heard Brittany say and for a moment Santana was thankful that her new roommate was easier to handle than Puck. That thought flew right away, though, when she felt the bed space on her right dip.

"Sooooo," said the girl next to Santana. "I'm just gonna sit right here."

_What the—_

"You know," Brittany said again. "In case you need me or something."

"I don't."

"You're saying it now, but you look green. What if you puke the second I leave this room?"

"I won't," Santana said with her eyes still closed.

"But what if you puke?" Brittany repeated the question.

"I won't, okay? God. Just leave."

Brittany took a pause and Santana, internally, did a fist pump. She won.

Or so she thought.

"But," Brittany spoke again. "What if you puke and you still can't open your eyes? What if you slip on your own puke and fall down? Think about how gross it is — falling into your own puke."

Santana opened her eyes and looked over to her right. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Why would anybody put such disgusting images in her head?

Brittany — not backing down from her offer — met Santana's eyes and continued. "I mean," she said. "If you were a unicorn, then I guess it's okay. Unicorns throw up rainbows anyway. So that's not gross at all. So," a beat. "Are you?"

Santana scrunched her eyebrows together, unsure of what Brittany was asking her.

Brittany seemed to catch on the confusion and moved just a tad closer to Santana. "A unicorn," she looked at Santana straight in the eye.

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

Brittany raised her hands. "I won't tell anyone if you are," she whispered as if they were having a secret conversation.

Santana felt her jaw drop. Speechless.

"No?"

Santana shook her head, furrowing her brows. Who, or rather,  _what_ , was this girl?

"Aw, that sucks," Brittany said with a pout. "Would've been cool if you were."

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, well, it would be a lot more cooler if you could get out of my face,  _roomie_."

Brittany tilted her head. "But I'm not in your face. I don't think I would fit."

"Ugh," Santana rolled her eyes. "It's just a saying."

"What does it mean?"

Santana huffed. "It means you're being too friendly right now. Invading my personal space. This," Santana waved her arms around, creating a sphere around her, "is my bubble. You, and everybody else, are not allowed in it. The bubble is just for me. Me. No one else, got it? I don't care about unicorns. Or rainbow puke or whatever. And for God's sake stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like… I don't know.  _That_ ," Santana pointed at Brittany's face.

Brittany shrugged. "I can't help it. I like looking at pretty things. Flowers, ribbons, clouds, rainbows, stars… and now you," she smiled saying it. Like she had just said something as clear as day. "I’ve told you you're pretty."

"Well, stop it. I don't like it."

"Why  _don't_  you want people telling you good things? I'm just being honest."

"Oh my God," Santana threw her arms up. "Why are you such a five-year-old? Stop talking! Leave me alone!"

Brittany smiled tight-lipped and lingered for a couple of seconds before she hopped off the bed. She walked all the way to the door and stopped right before she got to it.

"How are you feeling?" Brittany asked looking over her shoulder, her left hand gripping the edge of the door.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling better? You looked awful when I came in."

"Oh," Santana was taken aback, not expecting the question at all. And was she feeling better? She gave her answer a thought. No sound of cracking glass, no loud thuds from her heart, and definitely no breathing problems.

 _Huh_ , she thought. As it turned out, dealing with Brittany made her forget about all those things.

"I guess," she said. She wanted to add 'it's none of your business' at the end of her answer, but before she had the chance, Brittany was already doing little jumps in her spot.

"Awesome," Brittany said, grinning from ear to ear. "Emma wanted me to tell you that breakfast is ready."

Brittany disappeared into the hallway and Santana was left with a lot of things in her mind. Most of them were about how strange the other girl was, but one question nagged more than the other — was Brittany purposely distracting her?

Santana shook her head and dismissed the thought because less than 30 seconds later, she heard more laughter coming from the kitchen. And even though the crackling sound in her head was replaced with images of rainbow-colored vomit, which by the way did not look any better than normal puke, Santana still groaned from annoyance.

oOoOo

Breakfast was… strange.

Well, not really. It was mostly strange because  _Brittany_  was weird. Or maybe she wasn't.

Santana didn't know.

Either it was all in Santana's head that Brittany was weird, or she had been  _that_  closed off from the world and a family made out of salt 'n pepper shakers, Tabasco, and a maple syrup bottle was actually considered normal. Will and Emma looked like they were highly entertained by the Shaker Family Circus Theater so Santana didn't really know how to react to it. However, looking at Puck's stunned face throughout the whole thing, Santana started to think that she wasn't alone thinking that Brittany was _definitely_  one of a kind.

She did try her hardest to keep her cool and not laugh, though, when Tabasco attempted a somersault, tripped over Mr. Salt and emptied its content onto Puck's pancakes. It might've not been intentional, but _damn…_ the look on his face? Priceless. Santana felt the urge of high-fiving Brittany, the Circus ringleader, but figured neither of them was ready for contact.

The table got silent. Will and Emma went too fast from laughing their heads off to being surprised over spilled Tabasco. Santana leaned back on her chair, ready to not be a part of whatever commotion that was going to happen. Ready to observe. Ready for Puck to blow up, really. She turned her head to look at the boy, then at the blonde girl staring at him looking like she was about to break into pieces.

Brittany kept saying she was sorry, over and over again that it got to the point where Santana thought her apologies were even more annoying than anything else in the world. But then Brittany started crying, and Santana figured that she was wrong. Brittany  _crying_  was the most annoying thing in the world. It wasn't until Brittany started to sob, "please don't kick me out. Please," that Santana felt her heartstrings tug. Of course, if you had asked her, she wouldn't have admitted it.

Finally aware of what was going on, Will got up from his seat and told Puck that he would make him another batch of pancakes. Emma got herself busy calming Brittany down, telling her she wasn't going to kick Brittany out, and Puck, to his credit and however red his ears had gotten, didn't say a word. He calmly, silently, got back to eating his pancakes. Piece by piece, even the part that had hot sauce on it. Midway, Puck stopped eating and looked at Brittany.

Unexpectedly, Puck grinned. "I've always wanted to try pancakes with hot sauce," he said to the blonde.

Santana, Will, Emma and Brittany watched him devour his whole plate (including the new one that Will made him) and drink his milk (in fact, he drank  _three_  full glasses of milk because his tongue felt like it was burning) with confusion on their faces. Santana especially. This was too weird. The whole house was weird and bipolar.

oOoOo

"She just lost both of her parents."

Santana looked to her left, where Puck was sitting, holding the TV remote. Why he suddenly seemed to think that she would be interested in what he was going to say, she didn't know. But she had to admit, she was a little bit curious of what he knew.

"There was a fire and she was the only survivor," Puck said again, his eyes fixed on the TV. "Her little sister also didn’t make it. She died on the way to the hospital. Will told me they couldn't find anyone to take care of her. Brittany's whole family lives somewhere in Europe."

Santana turned her head back around and looked at the TV, even though she couldn't pay it any attention. The pictures on screen became just that. Pictures. Puck's occasional blurbs became too interesting to pass up.

"Why are you even telling me this?" Santana asked with false annoyance.

Puck looked at her and scoffed. "Because,  _Santana_ ," he mockingly emphasized on her name. "I don't want you to run her away. This is practically all she got. All  _I_  got. And even though you're too freaking proud to admit it, it's all  _you_  got."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't pretend you know me. You don't."

"Listen. You and me, we probably did something bad that we deserve what we're getting now. I mean, we're not exactly angels," Puck continued. He scratched an itch on his arm that wasn't really there. "But you can tell she's not like us. Look at her," Puck jerked his neck.

Santana turned her head towards the kitchen and watched Emma and Brittany clean up. She wasn't at all surprised when she saw Brittany was already all smiles and laughter despite the sobbing mess she was at the table earlier. But judging from the fact that the crackling noise was back, although not as overbearing as this morning, Santana was sure of one thing: she was jealous of her new roommate.

oOoOo

During dinner, Santana couldn't help but watch Brittany. What Puck had said that afternoon kept repeating itself in her head:  _she's not like us_.

 _That seems accurate enough_ , Santana thought. Brittany was seriously super… what's the word? Bright? Yeah. She was super bright. Not bright I'm-super-intelligent-and-witty kind of bright, but just… bright. Luminous. If she were a color, Brittany would be yellow.  _I'd probably be black and Puck's probably brown._

Emma, Will and Puck took turns asking Brittany questions over chicken and rice, trying to get some insights about the young girl. Her favorite color ("pink"), her favorite animals ("dolphins, cats, and unicorns"), her favorite TV shows ("One Tree Hill, and anything on Animal Planet"). Puck asked her what her favorite subject was and gave her a high-five when Brittany answered with a shy grin, "recess."

After a few questions, the room became too quiet. Santana, who was busy with her food, looked up to see all eyes on her. As it turned out, it was her turn to ask a question.

She glared at everyone around the table and held one hand up. "Never said I was playing," she growled.

Emma took over the conversation almost instantly. The woman asked Brittany whether or not she had a best friend at school and from the corner of her eye, Santana could see the other girl shaking her head.

"No," Brittany said. "My, uh…" she stuttered. Her hand running through her hair. "My dad was my best friend," she said.

Santana rolled her eyes.  _Great,_  she thought.  _Here we go again._

Santana fully expected Brittany to cry again, just like this morning. But the tears and the ugly sobbing never came and it baffled Santana. She looked up from her plate to see Brittany smiling to Emma, who was already saying how sorry she was to bring it up.

"It's alright," Brittany said. "It's weird to use past tense when I talk about them, but guess I have to get used to it anyway, right?"

Will smiled. "Take your time, Brittany," he gave Brittany a loving pat on her shoulder. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and made a loud clap with his hands. "Who's ready for ice cream?"

Brittany beamed. "I'll get it," she said as Emma, who had every intention to keep Brittany from messing up her neatly organized freezer, got up from her chair and followed her.

Will and Puck got up to collect dirty plates, including Santana's, and walked together to the kitchen talking about some football game score.

Santana stayed seated there on her chair. Alone in the dining room. Listening to the clinks and clanks and the faraway warmth of the happy 'family' in the kitchen that she wasn't part of. And there they were once more.

That stupid noise inside her head.

That fucking banging from inside her chest.


	6. Words

It had been almost two weeks since her first meeting with Brittany and Santana still didn't know what to think about her new roommate.

Based on that little story that Puck had told her and a little more investigating (a.k.a. eavesdropping to Will and Emma's conversation), Brittany had every right to be sad. To throw around vases. Picture frames, maybe. Or act slightly bitter. Perhaps not as rude as herself— but she could've at least thrown snarky one liners here and there. But no. None of that was happening.

Brittany never tried to push her buttons like Puck did. For someone who never seemed to have a problem to mesh well with other people, she gave Santana plenty of space. Most of the time, Brittany seemed to leave Santana in her own 'bubble', just like what she had asked her to do. The rest of the time, though, it felt like Brittany was trying to poke her bubble somehow. But Santana couldn't even begin to explain how. It just felt like she was.

For example, she had told Brittany that as long as she stayed in her part of the room, she wouldn't beat her up. So, one day, Brittany took advantage of that agreement and decided that her part of the room would be a dance studio (though she looked like she was just jumping around to the music playing through her earphones and not really dancing).

Santana knew it could just be in her imagination that Brittany was taunting her. Like she was showing off how bizarrely happy she was and that Santana should be like her too. But Santana ended up leaving the room anyway, purposely bumping onto Brittany's shoulder on her way out.

Santana thought that maybe Brittany was just a sociopath in the making. All very bright, happy and bubbly on the outside, but sneakily plan to kill everyone when they weren't looking. For several nights in a row, Santana would make sure that Brittany fell asleep before she finally closed her eyes. But then each morning she would get up to find an empty, made up bed and she realized that if Brittany was a crazy killer on the loose, she would've killed her when she had the chance.

Sometimes both Brittany and Santana would be in the kitchen helping Emma out, but while one would be all cheery, casually joking around with the older woman, the other one would keep herself to, well, herself. Sometimes Santana would make a show out of her eye rolls, or even loudly sigh just to let the other two people know that she was irritated. She couldn't help it, though. It was easier to stay that way than to remember how to laugh. It suffocated her, really. But she wasn't about to admit it to anyone. And every time that happened, Santana couldn't help but think that God, or whoever was running this universe, had a favorite, and it sure wasn't her.

oOoOo

So far, Brittany had been enjoying her time tremendously. Living with the Schuesters was easy if you could just follow each and every single request that Emma had: don't sit on things you weren't supposed to sit on, don't open drawers unless you really needed to, don't clean messes unless you were the one who caused it. It really didn't take long for her to figure out that the redhead had cleaning and organizational issues, but Brittany paid no mind to it. Brittany was sort of used to it, anyway.

" _You take things, you put them back."_ Brittany heard her mom's voice in her head and chuckled.  _She's always reminding me even when she's not here._

"—ways here," someone's muffled voice was heard and Brittany's eyes widened.  _Mom?_

She quickly turned her head to the staircase to catch the owner of the voice. For a second she thought it was her mom, but when she found out it was just Santana, Brittany shook her head as if she was getting rid of something from her head.

"Oh, it's just you," Brittany said, sounding more disappointed than she had intended.

Santana stopped on the bottom staircase, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Brittany added, sporting an apologetic grimace on her face. "I didn't mean to sound like that."

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

The brunette made her way to the refrigerator to get the orange juice and Brittany watched her carefully from where she was sitting. She kept an eye at Santana as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard, opened the juice cap and poured half full. There was something about the darker girl that she couldn't quite make out, and that bothered her.

No, wait. That wasn't the right word.

She wasn't bothered. She was just… curious, for lack of a better word, about Santana.

So far, Brittany had everyone figured out. Emma with her cleaning obsession and how thoroughly polishing any kind of surface appeared to relief her obsessive thoughts — although only temporarily. Will, with his crazy eyes and smile, who seemed to get tremendous amount of joy whenever he thought he had succeeded in encouraging his 'kids' toward their goals. The other day when he told Puck that he was sure to be drafted into NFL someday? It wasn't just him that had a proud smile on his face.

Speaking of Puck, Brittany liked him. Nothing romantic, of course. It was just that Puck, even if he could be  _such_  a boy sometimes with his video games and post ball game stench, impressed her because he absolutely cared about everybody in the house. Maybe even a little bit about Santana.

She thought Puck was kind of like a pineapple. Rough on the outside, and kind of sweet on the inside. Plus, Puck just got a haircut and now the top of his head looked like the top of the fruit.

And then there was Santana.

Santana, Santana, Santana.

She was sort of like a puzzle with a missing piece or two. Maybe you misplaced them, maybe you accidentally threw them away. Point is, she was something you could never solve. When you thought you were about to finish it, you found a hole in the middle. But Brittany was not and would not be a quitter.

"Were you saying something coming down the stairs?" Asked Brittany after a while. She was sure she heard a voice from behind her when she was thinking about her mom.

Santana was just about to finish her second helping of orange juice when she heard the question. Her hand (and glass) stopped halfway. "Why?" She furrowed her eyebrows. What a weird way to poke a bubble.

"Because," Brittany said. "Because I thought you were a ghost."

Santana said nothing. She put the juice carton back into the refrigerator and walked to the kitchen sink to start washing the glass that she used.

"Don't laugh," Brittany said timidly.

Santana squished the sponge so it would make bubbles. Brittany was  _something_ , alright. "Not laughing," said Santana, uninterestedly, without looking at her questioner.

But see?  _Santana wasn't that bad_ , Brittany thought. She had a faint memory (or maybe it was a dream) of Santana helping her into bed and pulled the covers all the way up to her neck. And even though she could be really scary sometimes, Santana never laughed at Brittany's random comments. She'd raise an eyebrow or make a confused face, but never laugh. Exactly like right now.

Brittany looked up. "I guess not," she huffed, but smiled at the end of it. She kept her eyes on Santana and continued watching. She felt like a creeper at first, but her curiosity needed satisfying. Puck had told her to stay away from Santana because according to him, "Santana is evil and she  _will_  cut you alive." But Brittany knew Puck didn't mean it.

He was just looking out for her. Obviously he was bitter about something, but whatever happened between him and Santana didn't concern her. Just because _they_ weren't getting along, it didn't mean _she_ was going to keep her distance. In fact, Brittany was dying to get closer to Santana. They were roommates after all. Weren't roommates supposed to have some sort of an unbreakable bond? Have whispered, giggly conversations after the lights were out? Plus, it had been a while since Brittany last had a girl talk. Now that her mom was gone, it would be nice to have someone else to talk to. It would be even nicer if it weren't someone who would just deflect and spray disinfectants on the furniture instead.

Santana put her glass down on the rack after rinsing it clean and turned on her heels. She walked right past Brittany — who was still shamelessly watching her — straight to the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Brittany.

Santana slipped into her shoes, one by one. "None of your business."

"But you didn't answer my question yet."

"And I should because…?" Santana asked as she kneeled down. One of her shoelaces was undone.

"D'uh," Brittany stood up and walked closer to the other girl. "Because I need to know."

Santana eyed the blonde girl up and down before she finally stood up, finished with her laces. "Well, aren't you feeling a little bit entitled?" Santana finally spoke.

Brittany stayed quiet because she didn't really know what that meant. Besides, judging from the look on Santana's face, which was not a pleasant one, not saying anything seemed to be the right thing to do.

"If you must know,  _Brittany,"_  Santana put an emphasis on the other girl's name to let her know how annoyed she was. "Yes, I did say something. I said, ‘you're always here’."

"Oh," Brittany nodded. It made sense. "Okay."

Santana faked a hurtful pout. "Aren't you gonna ask me why I said it?"

Brittany beamed. This was a breakthrough! Santana was talking to her— no! Even more than that, Santana was  _asking_  her to keep talking!

"Oh! Yeah, sure," Brittany smiled wide. Her blue eyes shone brightly and Santana had to tell herself that they were real and not colored glass marbles. "Why did you say it?"

And just like that, Santana switched from being mesmerized by Brittany's eyes to putting on her special face. The angry face with angry eyes that told Brittany that it was not a good thing to be messing with Santana at that moment.

Brittany took a step back. She didn't expect her speaking opponent would do a 180˚ that fast.

"Because,  _Brittany,_ " Santana told her menacingly as she took a step forward. Then another. "You're  _always_ here." Then another. And with the iciest tone Brittany had ever heard, Santana told her, "and I can't stand you."

oOoOo

Santana stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. She knew it. She had been hearing footsteps behind her since God knows when and she was right. There  _was_  someone following her. But instead of a creepy guy, or some smelly homeless like she had nervously imagined, it was a girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a whole lot of guts, if you asked her.

Brittany had tried to be discreet — which shouldn't have been hard at all because she had a lot of practice. She used to sneak down to the living room at night and watched cartoons (muted, of course) after her parents were fast asleep. Making sure she wasn't making a noise, while walking behind Santana, was easy. The hardest part was actually controlling her legs so that they would walk slower that she wouldn't catch up with Santana.

But it was too late. Santana had noticed her presence. Immediately she halted when their eyes met, and her left foot stopped midair. She gave Santana an awkward grin that made Santana roll her eyes and turn on her heels. Brittany sighed and looked at her feet, scolding them both in her head. Why must they be longer than Santana's? Why couldn't they be just as long as hers? Silly legs.

"Stop following me," Santana said looking over her shoulder.

"I'm not following you," Brittany insisted. Technically, it was true. She wasn't. She was simply the second person to walk out of the front door.

"Yeah," Santana scoffed. "And I'm the Queen of England."

Brittany's eyes went wide. "You are? Wait. You can't be. I've seen her pictures. She's old. And she has white hair. Your hair's black and pret—"

Santana stopped in her tracks for the second time in the last three minutes. She did a pivot and faced Brittany. "Oh my God, shut up! Go away!" she shouted. "Why are you following me, anyway?"

Brittany stood her ground. "I'm not!"

"Oh yeah?" Santana crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "So why are you here, huh? Do you have a death wish or something?" Santana icily asked.

"No," Brittany whispered, hands playing with the hem of her T-shirt. "Not really."

"Poor little Brittany.  _So_ lost without her mommy and daddy," Santana cut her off.

Brittany looked up. "Why are you being so mean?"

"Why am I being so mean?" Santana mockingly laughed and repeated as she took a few steps closer to the other girl. "Why am _I_ being so mean?"

_Because you're a fucking sunshine when I can't even remember how to laugh anymore. That's why._

"Because I  _just_  told you that I can't stand you and yet here you are, creeping up on me like some lost puppy. But you know what?" Santana rested both her hands on her hips. "Whatever. If you're so lost, if you need your _mommy_  that bad, go stand at a street corner or something. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone would take you away and be your new parents."

Brittany frowned. What Santana said hurt. Not to mention ridiculous. She didn't want a new mom or dad. Why would she? It wouldn't be the same. If someone were to be her new parents, they would have to learn everything about her. From zero. And that would take a really long time.

First of all, they would have to remember her birthday, which never seemed to fall on the same day. This year it was on a Wednesday. The year before that, it fell on a Tuesday. So confusing. Why couldn't they just call it a 'birth _date_ ' instead? It was always the same date anyway.

Second of all, they would have to learn about all the other things. Like the bracelet around her wrist and the charms that were hanging onto it. Ballet shoes, for the first ballet recital that Brittany was part of. Dolphins, for when her parents took her to Sea World. A star, for the first time ever watching Peter Pan. A bell, for when her mom dropped her off on the first day of grade school.

Third of all, if Brittany were to list every single thing to learn about her, there would be a "millionth of all". It would be easier if she could just have her old mom back instead of getting a new one. Not that it was possible.

"I don't want a new mom," Brittany whispered.

"Yeah, well you look like you need one," Santana countered back and turned around again, ready to continue her walk to the park. A victory smirk appeared on her face when she heard a faint "okay," from behind her and several footsteps following the word. But it slowly disappeared when she couldn't hear them anymore.

Santana looked over her shoulder. She found nothing.

Brittany was gone.

"Brittany?" Santana called and listened hard for any type of answer.

She felt an imaginary cold sweat running down her temple and Santana covered her face with both her hands.

Was it too much? Was it too mean? Why was it bothering her so much that Brittany wasn't there anymore?

Santana let out a loud groan.

"Brittany!" She tried again. This time as loud as she could from where she was standing, earning good stares from passersby. If she could just, maybe, possibly, figure out which direction Brittany went to…

Still no answer.

oOoOo

Santana was exhausted. She had been going in and out of stores, bumping on people, asking them if they had seen a blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a pair of denim shorts and a pink T-shirt. She had been reading their faces carefully, in case one of them wasn't telling the truth. She had paid extra attention to suspicious vehicles like windowless vans. She actually got chased away by several storeowners for snooping around their delivery vans.

All that for nothing. Brittany was still missing.

So many thoughts were going on in Santana's head as she ran up and down the streets. Was she out of line? It wasn't that Santana thought Brittany was dim enough to actually do it, but what if Brittany really took it to heart and stood on a street corner? What if Brittany was upset and someone tricked her into coming with them and not return? Like, kidnap her or something?

Santana held on to a street lamp and tried to catch her breath. But no matter what she did, she couldn't calm down the turmoil that was happening inside her head. So she slumped down and sat on the curb. She was a smart girl. She watched the news. She knew what kidnappers did to girls. If something happened to Brittany, she most definitely didn't want to be the one who wished it upon her.

_This isn't happening,_  she repeated over and over again in her head.  _This isn't happening. What if I did it again?_

Santana assessed all the scenarios in her head. If she hadn't turned her back so fast, she would've seen where Brittany was going. If she had said something nicer, not as extreme, or maybe just stayed quiet, Brittany wouldn't have walked away. She could've just ignored her and Brittany would've kept following her and the past 35 minutes wouldn't have happened and  _oh my God,_  she thought.  _Am I crying?_

She was. And for a while she held her breath and fought the tears.  _Crying won't help you find Brittany, stupid,_ she thought. But neither did fighting the tears. And to be honest, at that moment, sitting helplessly on the curbside, crying felt really good. Santana was tired, frustrated, and felt guilty for a possible news report about a found dead body in the woods coming out in a few days.

So she just let go. Silent tears became sobs and it wasn't long before her sleeves were wet from wiping her eyes and face. She didn't care that people were staring. Some of them even stopped to ask her questions but gladly went on their ways when all she did was growl at them, telling them to leave her alone.

A hand landed on her shoulder and shook it. "Santana?"

Santana looked to her side but the tears in her eyes made it hard for her to see. Everything was a blur. But she could make out the blonde hair, and she was pretty sure she knew that voice.

"Brittany?" She wiped her eyes with a dry patch of her shirt.

"Why are you crying?" Brittany asked, not really sure why the usually tough girl was a sobbing mess. But she dropped down and sat next to Santana anyway. "Do you… would you like some of my ice cream?" she offered. "I didn't touch the other side ye—"

Santana lunged at her, interrupting Brittany of what she was going to say. She was surprised. She really hadn't expected Santana to be clinging on her like her life depended on her. After all, this was the girl who just told her to go stand on a street corner to find a new mom.

"Where did you go? I thought," Santana tried her best to talk, even though her sobbing was making it really hard for her. "I thought something happened to you and I didn't see where you were going so I looked for you everywhere but you were nowhere. What if someone kidnapped you?"

Brittany frowned. "Did you take a left or right from where we were fighting?"

"Right?" Santana whimpered. She rested her chin on Brittany's shoulder.

"Silly," Brittany said softly. She rubbed Santana's back up and down, trying to soothe her crying. "Don't you know you're supposed to go left when you're confused? Like a maze?"

_Of course_ , Santana mentally kicked herself for not thinking the same way as Brittany. She should've known.

"I went to get ice cream," Brittany added.

"The parlor?"

"Yeah. That was where I was going originally." Brittany chuckled. "Told you I wasn't following you," she gave Santana a squeeze and Santana finally pulled away.

"You're here," Santana stated with disbelief and traces of sobs in her voice. "I thought you were dead."

Brittany shook her head. Her ice cream was starting to melt down her wrist, but Brittany didn't care. Santana looked like she was going to turn into goo and she was more important than some cold, creamy treat. So she hugged Santana one more time, tighter this time.

"I'm here," said Brittany and it was all Santana needed to hear.

oOoOo

" _I don't know why you had to hit him, Santana."_

" _Mom," Santana protested from her backseat. "I told you! He pushed me first!"_

_Ines threw her daughter a sharp look through the rearview mirror and shook her head. "That doesn't mean you should hit back."_

" _So I should've just stayed quiet?"_

" _Exactly."_

" _That's bullshit."_

" _Santana!" Ines' eyes widened at what she just heard. "Who taught you that word?"_

_Santana mumbled something that sounded like "I don't know," and crossed her arms. She looked outside her window. Boy, it was raining pretty hard._

" _You will not use that word ever again, you hear me?" Ines turned the wiper dial one speed faster._

" _What?" Santana protested again. "But you use it. Dad uses it. Everybody does!"_

" _That doesn't mean you can," Ines told her. "Do you know how embarrassed I was to be called to your principal's office? And to learn that you've hit one of your classmates?"_

" _I told you, he freaking pushed me!"_

" _Santana!" Ines yelled at her daughter. She was frustrated. Santana was being stubborn and the rain was making it really hard to drive. "I'm not going to tolerate that tone, young lady. I bet none of your friends talk this way."_

" _Not true," Santana yelled back. "Sarah's mom lets her do whatever she wants!"_

" _Well, I'm not Sarah's mom. I'm your mom! And you're grounded!"_

" _What?"_

" _You heard me," said Ines. "For a week," she added, looking at Santana's eyes through the rearview mirror. She really wanted the conversation to end. The rain was turning into a downpour. A storm, even, and it was really hard to see anything. The best she could do was to make out shapes in front of her and guess what they were._

_They got to an intersection and the lights were off. No red, no yellow, no green. Ines cursed herself. She should've made that visit to the principal's office short. She shouldn't have fought what the principal was saying — telling him that Santana only did it for self-defense. It had cost her 30 minutes of lecture from the bald-headed educator and now, a whole lot of trouble driving through the rain._

_Ines clutched the golden cross hanging on her neck. She prayed. She prayed for the storm to stop, she prayed for some sort of guidance to get them home, but most of all, she prayed for Santana._ Dear Lord _, she prayed,_ keep my daughter safe.

" _That's so unfair!" Santana kicked the back of her mom's seat. And again and again and again. "Why can't you be like Sarah's mom?"_

" _Santana!" Ines yelled. "Stop it! Don't make me add another week to your punishment." She really needed to focus on the road. She had looked left and right several times now and it seemed like it was safe for her to continue moving._

" _I hate you!" Santana yelled back with all her might. "I wish you weren't my mom!"_

_There were red and blue lights swirling in the distance when Santana opened her eyes, also a terrible headache, an ache on her arm, and a couple of women in white uniform hauling her in what apparently felt like a moving bed._

" _Sweetie? Can you tell me your name?" One of them asked._

_Santana blinked her eyes several times. "Santana."_

" _Okay, Santana, that's good," the other one took over. "We're going to take you to a hospital, okay? Everything's going to be alright. I need you to relax."_

_Santana's eyes went wide open. "The hospital?" She asked. "Where's my mom? Where is she?"_

_Santana didn't get an answer. Or maybe she did, from the way the two women looked at each other, then at her._

" _Everything's going to be alright, sweetie," answered the one on the left as she opened the doors to the ambulance. "Everything's going to be alright."_

_Santana nodded with all the energy she had left. She wanted to believe what they said. But when she saw another paramedic covered the face of a body on a gurney from the corner of her eyes, she knew they were lying._

_But she wanted to believe so much._


	7. Magic

After her embarrassing crying fit several weeks ago, Santana had tried to keep her distance from Brittany. But for some strange, unknown reason, she couldn't. In fact, in addition to sharing a room, they actually started to exchange words to each other. Not that plenty (mostly it was Brittany who did all the talking), but enough to call it mini conversations. It was like Brittany was a magnet, and Santana was the cold hard metal.

Maybe it was just some sort of a prolonged response of relief, sometimes Santana pondered. She was very glad when her words didn't come true — when Brittany just went to get ice cream instead of being taken away by some lunatic — unlike that wretched, fateful day when she wished away her mother. So she thought it was just temporary. That one day she would wake up and spit venomous words to Brittany again, just like how she would to anyone else. But mornings, days, and weeks passed by, and it had gotten harder to shake Brittany off her side. It had also gotten more and more impossible for her to find the willpower to once again be cruel to her roommate.

Brittany, on the other hand, was ballooning with determination. Unlike Santana who was trying to gather up the energy to push Brittany away, the blonde girl was intent on befriending Santana. She still gave her roommate her space, but knowing that she was probably the first one to see the other girl looking so helpless in a long while, she was set on becoming the first person to see the rest of the real Santana.

Her tokens of victory, so far, included 1) an answer from Santana when she asked her where she had been going to every afternoon (“The park.”), 2) A 'goodnight' every night and a 'good morning' every morning, or a variation of those two phrases, 3) actual smiles, and 4) a chuckle from the day when Brittany decided to turn her part of the room into a dance floor and frolicked around like a crazy disco duck.

Tiny victories, yes, but still victories. And today she was going to try and win some more.

"Hey," Brittany popped into the room. As usual, she had stayed longer downstairs and kept Emma company after breakfast as the homemaker cleaned surfaces that didn't need cleaning before going back upstairs to her and Santana's room.

"Watcha doin'?" Brittany asked as she walked in. Then she saw the yellowing newspaper on Santana's hands and mouthed an, "oh."

She didn't know (yet) why Santana had been reading the same old newspaper more times than the new ones, but she understood that her friend needed to. Not a lot of people realized this, but she was a smart girl. She already knew that whatever story was written in the newspaper, it probably had something to do with Santana's past.

_She would tell me in her own time,_ Brittany thought. But if that time never comes, Brittany was fine with that too.

"Nothing," said Santana before she neatly folded the old newspaper and put it back into the drawer. She watched as Brittany sat down on her bed and swung her feet rhythmically.

"It's okay if you want to keep reading it," Brittany told Santana. "It looks important, so I won't bother you. I'll be as quiet as a mouse."

"No, it's fine," said Santana. "I'm going out in a bit, anyway."

"Where to?" the blonde asked.

Santana shrugged and got off her bed. She took a baseball cap from the coat hanger behind the door and put it on. "The park."

"Again?"

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, again," she said. "Got a problem with that?"

The blonde girl shrugged. "Not really. It's just that you go there every day. And that's all you do. You read that old newspaper, then you go to the park."

"Look. Just because I let you see me cry, doesn't mean you can go all Dear Abby on me. Whatever happened to not poking my bubble?" Santana turned around to face Brittany.

"Sorry," Brittany stared at her still swinging feet. "Didn't mean to," she paused.

Santana was turning the doorknob when she heard Brittany call her name.

"What now?" Santana threw her hands in the air, exasperated.

With a head tilt and a confused look, Brittany asked. "Who's Abby?"

oOoOo

A breeze gently brushed her face as Santana sat under the tree and brought her another memory, and yet another crack in her heart.

_Funny,_ she thought as she took a deep breath.  _Never knew happy things were supposed to bring you so close to tears._

"You're so quiet," a voice from her left said to her and Santana startled. She forgot that she had told Brittany that she could come with her to the park. In all honesty, she didn't think that Brittany would actually take it as an invitation to join her sitting under the tree. She thought they would've gone their separate ways the moment they got to the park. Yet, there they were, sitting juxtaposed with each other under a big Linden tree.  _Her_  tree. And she really didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. Santana made a mental note to re-learn how to say "no" to her roommate — and maybe work on distracting herself from Brittany's pout, because Goddamn it, it was powerful.

Santana kept her gaze on the playground in the distance and shrugged. "I like quiet," she told Brittany.

"Why?" Brittany made a face. "You don't have to answer if I'm poking your bubble. Or being Abby again — whoever she is."

"You are," Santana quickly said. But she added a thin smile at the end so that Brittany wouldn't feel too bad. She didn't want her to disappear again like last time.

"I don't like quiet," said Brittany after a pregnant pause. She figured if Santana wasn't going to talk, she was okay with listening.

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, that was an understatement."

"I don't like quiet because it hurts," Brittany continued and Santana froze. Brittany's voice was calm, but there was intensity in the tone that Santana had never thought she would hear from her roommate. Ever.

Santana realized that she was afraid of that tone, and that she wasn't ready for this Brittany. It was her job to be sad. Not the bubbly blonde girl.

"When it's not loud outside, it's super loud in here," Brittany put a finger on her temple and scrunched her nose. She tried to smile at the same time, but if Santana hadn't lost her ability to talk at that moment, she would've told Brittany to stop it because she looked like she was going to cry. "Sometimes I feel my head's like a radio with missing buttons. I can't turn it off. Can't turn it down either. And I keep hearing them."

Santana cleared her throat. "Them?"

"My mom," Brittany pulled a pinch of grass and scattered it back onto the ground. "And my dad, too. That's why I try to drown the noises out by being… well, you know how I am."

"You miss them?"

"All the time," Brittany answered. She looked up and met Santana's eyes. "Don't you?"

"I guess," Santana let out long sigh. "But I shouldn't."

"Why? I actually kind of like missing them."

"You just told me that it hurts," Santana asked back. Deflecting.

"It does," Brittany nodded her head slowly. She understood Santana's code. It was an unspoken, "no, Brittany. Not gonna happen."

Brittany brushed off some grass from her jeans. "So much. But in a way it's kind of awesome because it just tells you," Brittany paused and gave her words a thought, "that you were loved."

Santana gave her a smile. "For a second there I thought you were going to give me a speech about keeping them alive in your heart and all that bullcrap."

"Oh, no. I hate when people tell me that," Brittany shook her head. "I mean, it's nice and all, but people use that line so much that you just know they're saying it just because they can. And because they can't tell you something that comes straight from their hearts. Why can't they say something like, 'don't worry, Brittany. They'll turn into unicorns that only you can see'? I mean, it's not true, but at least it's different and it would've made me smile just because it's original. Plus… unicorns."

Santana snorted. "You really love unicorns, don't you?"

"Everybody does. They're magical."

"They're not real, though."

"And that bothers you?"

Santana shrugged. "I'm just saying, there's no such thing as magic."

"You don't believe in magic?" Brittany scooted over and changed her sitting position that she was now facing the brunette fully.

"Card tricks and rabbits jumping out of hats? Nope."

"Santa?"

"Since I was five I already knew he was just a guy in a fat suit. And the ones down at the mall just want kids to sit on their laps. Creepy assholes."

"Superman."

"A guy in a ridiculously tight suit," Santana shrugged. "And a lame pair of glasses as a disguise. I mean, you'd think they'd come up with a better, less recognizable disguise. A fake mustache would've been better."

"What about Leprechauns?"

"Sound as unappealing as the letters in their name."

"Fairy tales?"

"Are just tales and not true."

"I like fairy tales."

"You're allowed to."

"Pure love?"

"Doesn't exist. Love happens because of reasons and necessity."

"What about love between a newborn and their mom?"

"Baby needs milk, mom needs a sense of ownership," Santana shrugged again.

Brittany sighed. "You really don't believe any of those stuff? You're a septic?"

"Skeptic, Britt. And no, I don't," Santana told her honestly. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because, Santana," Brittany ran her fingers through her blonde hair and huffed. Who knew talking to Santana could be this frustrating? "If you don't believe in magic, if you don't believe in love, fairy tales or even the possibility of those things," she looked at the girl in front of her straight in the eyes. "You'll never ever find it."

oOoOo

Santana saved a cat that afternoon.

Well, technically,  _they_  saved a cat. After all, Brittany was the one who convinced Santana to save it.

They were walking back from the park when they saw the kitten in distress. Brittany and her "Pouting Powers" (or so Puck had been calling it) managed to get Santana to take off her sandals and climb up the tree. As it turned out, Santana had had a lot of practice. During one of the rare occasions when she would open up about her past to Brittany (just a little bit. Not that much), she mentioned about having a lot of cousins, and almost all of them were boys. Climbing trees was a well-honed skill for her and she was pretty badass at it.

"That was awesome! Yay!" Brittany clapped her hands when Santana and the kitten came down from the tree. She impatiently scooped the kitten from its rescuer's hands and brought it close to her heart.

Santana raised an eyebrow at the kitten. She could've sworn that it was not that friendly when she was holding it. In fact, she didn't need to swear. She got scratch marks all over her arms to prove it. Then again, she understood why. There was literally nobody Brittany couldn't win over.

"Do you think we can bring him home?" Brittany asked. "He can be ours."

"I don't think Will and Emma would let us do that, Britt."

"But who's gonna take care of him now?"

"We _can't_ , Brittany."

"But… look at him," Brittany stroked the kitten's neck. "He's so cute. And I don't see his mommy anywhere. Do you?"

Santana looked to her left, then to her right. Brittany was right. There was no sign of its mom.

"He's all alone, Santana." The kitten meowed and Brittany kissed the top of its head. "He's all alone just like us before we came to the house."

Santana sighed. "Brittany, we don't even know how to take care of it. I mean, where is he going to sleep?"

"The basement."

"We still need a bed. He can't sleep on the floor."

"I'll stuff a shoebox with my old t-shirt."

"What are we going to feed him?"

"I got money for a special kind of milk that we can get from the pet store."

"Brittany," Santana huffed. She hated the fact that once Brittany was set on doing something, there was no going back. She was no quitter, that's for sure.

"Santana," Brittany grinned. She knew Santana was very close to giving in.

The girl with the raven hair took a deep breath before she shook her head. She knew she was going to regret this.

"Fine," said Santana, and Brittany gave her a bone-crushing hug complete with a squeal. "But we split the cost of that special milk you mentioned about."

_Will and Emma are going to flip,_ Santana worried. But then she imagined their faces freaking out and smiled.

_Best. Idea. Ever._

oOoOo

"Santana," whispered Brittany in the darkness. It had been at least a couple of hours since Emma turned off the lights but Brittany still couldn't keep her eyes shut.

"Santana," she tried again. No luck though. The girl she was calling for didn't wake up. So Brittany sat up on her bed. She weighed her extra pillow in her hands and thought,  _what the heck._ With a swift motion, the pillow landed on the floor — after bouncing on Santana's uncovered head.

"What the hell?" Santana turned around to face the perpetrator with her eyes still half-closed. "Brittany? What time is it?"

Brittany chuckled. "I'm sorry?" she offered, but even in the darkness Santana could see a glint of mischief in her blue eyes.

"Britt," Santana sighed. Brittany was lucky Santana had a soft spot for her. If she was still living in the group home and someone threw a pillow at her, Santana would've made sure they would never be able to sleep soundly at night ever again.

Santana finally found her wristwatch that she had put down on the nightstand and brought it up to her eyes. "It's 3 AM. What is it? I needs to gets my snoozin' on."

"I can't sleep."

"Try closing your eyes," Santana answered half-heartedly. She gave her pillow a shake to fluff it and when she was done, she plopped her head back down on it. She really was tired. As it turned out, climbing a tree and rescuing a kitten took a lot of her energy today.

"No, Santana," Brittany sighed. "I tried that already. Tried counting sheep, but then I just got confused. There were too many of them. Tried imagining that I was making a snow angel — well, actually, a cotton angel because I didn't want to get cold and cotton is much fluffier than snow. But then the cotton became cotton candy and it was pink and sweet and then I started to get hungry. And then —"

"Alright, alright," Santana ran her hands over her face and sat up, grudgingly so, on her bed. She hated that Brittany made her so… permissive. Weak.

She huffed. "What do you want to do?"

Brittany started biting her nails. What  _did_ she want to do?

"Britt," Santana shook her head. She stepped out of her bed, wrapped her blanket around herself and walked to where Brittany was sitting. "Stop it. You're gonna have ugly fingernails," she said, pulling Brittany's hand away from her mouth. Brittany gave her an apologetic smile and Santana sat herself down next to her.

There was a pregnant silence hanging in the air and Santana started to doze off. But she forced her eyes to open again when she realized that Brittany hadn't told her why she threw a pillow at her yet. She yawned as wide as she could and stretched her arms into the air. She shook her head a little bit to get the sleep out of her eyes.

"So?" Santana finally asked.

Brittany tilted her head to the right out of confusion. "So what?"

Santana rolled her eyes. Just because Brittany had gotten into her very short list of tolerable people, it didn't mean that she wouldn't be getting the occasional eye roll.

"What do you wanna do?"

"OH! Yeah, okay. Sorry," Brittany said. "I don't know. I can't stop thinking about Lord Tubbington," she pouted. She really didn't like the fact that the kitten was alone in a dark, cold basement.

Santana sighed. _Of course it was about the cat._

"Do you want to check on him?" Santana offered. "I'll go with you."

Brittany turned her head so fast; Santana could swear she heard a whoosh. She gasped. "You will?"

"Yeah, I mean," Santana cleared her throat. "Like you said. It's our kitten, right?"

Brittany beamed. "You're the best, Santana."

Santana got up and walked to her nightstand. If there was anything that she learned from living in a group home, was that she should always, always keep a flashlight nearby. It helped during the many blackouts that happened when she was still living there, and sneaking out was impossible without the faithful friend.

"Okay, let's go," she said after clicking the flashlight on. She grabbed Brittany's hand and they walked to the door.

The girls tiptoed to the basement, making as little noise as possible. They were sure either Will or Emma would send the kitten away to a shelter once they found out about it, so ninja mode was necessary. Also necessary: keeping the secret from Puck so he wouldn't rat them out.

"Hey there, baby," Brittany cooed to the tiny cat in the shoebox. It was restlessly pacing in what little space its cardboard confinement was when the girls finally got there. "Can't sleep? Me neither."

Brittany stroked the kitten carefully and it started to cry with squeaky meows.

"Shut up, Tubbs," Santana scolded in her loudest whisper. "You're gonna get us caught!"

"Don't be mean, Santana!" Brittany scolded her back. "He's just crying ‘cause he's lonely."

The kitten looked at Santana smugly. Like he was satisfied that Brittany defended him and not Santana.

Santana squinted her eyes on him.  _Why you arrogant little…_

"Well, if Will and Emma find out that we have a cat down here, he'll be even lonelier than he ever was," Santana protested. "So you better shut it, Tubbs. Otherwise you'll be kicked out," she told the kitten. "Just because you're a Lord, doesn't mean you're more superior than me."

Brittany pursed her lips. Santana did have a point. She still didn't approve of Santana's rude behavior towards their new pet, though. Playing the mommy to Santana's evil stepmother, Brittany scooped the small kitten out of the shoebox with her hands and whispered to it.

"Hey," she kissed the cat. "Hey, kitty cat. Don't cry, okay? How 'bout I sing you a song?"

Santana opened her mouth to let her objection be known, but before she had the chance to say anything, Brittany already cut her off. "I promise I'll be very quiet," she said, and Santana canceled what she was going to say.

_"If you rescue me,"_ Brittany started to sing. _"I'll be your friend forever. Let me in your bed, I'll keep you warm in winter."_

"What kind of song is that?" Santana whispered to her roommate and that earned her a shush. She muttered a 'whatever' and leaned her back against the wall.

_"All the kitties are playing, they are having such fun,"_ Brittany playfully moved Lord Tubbington's tiny paws. _"I wish it could happen to me."_

Santana listened to the words. Her lips twitched into an accidental smile.  _This is such a Brittany song,_  she thought and, no doubt, if it were anybody else in the world that was singing it, she would've put a duct tape on their mouth before the second line had ever started.

Something tickled her nose and she snapped back from her thoughts and jumped a little when she saw Lord Tubbington right in front of her eyes. Brittany was holding the kitten in a way that her fingers could still somehow move the kitten's legs and make them dance _._

_"Oh, someday I know someone will look into my eyes and say 'hello,'"_ Brittany continued to sing as Lord Tubbington faux-danced his way onto Santana's cheek. _"'You're my very special kitten.'"_ Santana pushed away Brittany's hand and rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. But she couldn't help the smile that was forming on her face.

_"So if you rescue me, I'll never have to be alone again,"_ Brittany nudged Santana's shoulder with her own and they both smiled. _"I'll never have to be alone again."_

"Where did you learn that song?" Santana asked. "It's a really weird song."

“Oh, my Aunt taught me the song. She said she heard it in a movie and it reminded her of me," Brittany stuck her tongue out.

Santana chuckled. That sounded accurate enough.

"Well," Santana jerked her chin to the half asleep kitten. "Looks like you did it, Britt. He's not crying anymore," she gently grazed her fingers on its head and the kitten snuggled into the warmth. Santana smiled watching Lord Tubbington move. She had to admit, that cat was kind of adorable — when it wasn't busy scratching her arms.

Santana looked up and accidentally met Brittany's eyes. The gentle smile that graced her face faded once she saw the pleading look on Brittany's.

"What?" Santana asked.

"Can we take Lord Tubbington to our room?"

"I don't know, Brittany," Santana threw a glance to the basement door. "What if we run into someone on our way upstairs?"

"Come on, Santana," Brittany pleaded. "I'll hide him under my shirt. Please?"

Santana's gaze bounced from the door, to Brittany, to the kitten, then to Brittany again, who was making sad puppy eyes to her.

She huffed. "Fine," said Santana. "But just… be careful. And you," Santana tenderly stroke the tip of Lord Tubbington's nose with her index finger. "Be very very quiet, okay?"

The kitten sneezed, Brittany awww-ed and Santana shook her head.  _Oh, boy._

The trip back to their room was filled with even more adrenaline than their way down to the basement. Maybe it was because Santana was afraid they would wake up the whole house, or maybe it was because they were smuggling a cat and Brittany insisted to practice her baby talk with it. Santana tried shushing Brittany several times, but it was no use. Brittany didn't stop. Santana ended up covering Brittany's mouth with her hand, much to Brittany's disdain, as they climbed up the stairs.

oOoOo

"Britt, come on," Santana pulled Brittany's hand away from her mouth the second time that night. They ended up sleeping on Brittany's bed, however small it was, because Santana wasn't convinced that Lord Tubbington wasn't going to roll off the bed if there wasn't someone else on his other side. Brittany, when she heard Santana's reasoning, grinned. She knew Santana was a softie inside.

"Enough with the nail biting." Santana said.

"Sorry," Brittany grinned apologetically. She took a pause. "Do you think, if I ever get adopted, my new parents will hate me for it?"

Santana turned her head and quickly gave the girl next to her a calming smile. "No way," she said. "Pretty sure nobody could ever hate you. But if they do, you tell me and I'll go all John McLane on them, okay?"

Brittany giggled. "Okay," she agreed, her hand still stroking the soft fur of Lord Tubbington. The kitten was sleeping sound and warm between them.

"I'm serious," Santana frowned, disappointed because all she received were giggles.

Brittany met Santana's eyes and saw that she was sincere. "I know, Santana," she said. Slowly, to make sure that the other girl knew that she was grateful for the offer. "Hey Santana," Brittany called.

"What?"

"I really liked talking to you today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," confirmed Brittany. "How come we didn't do it sooner?"

"I don't know," Santana answered. "Guess I didn't think I'd like it that much."

"Does this mean we're friends?"

Brittany offered her pinky and Santana observed it for a spell before latching onto it with her own. For the first time in a long while, she liked the idea of being friends with someone. And she was glad that someone was Brittany.

"Best of," Santana answered with a nod.

Brittany nudged Santana's foot with her own. "Should've made you cry sooner."

"Hey," Santana frowned. "For the record, I made myself cry that day."

"Yeah, yeah," Brittany laughed and Santana shushed her. But soon they were exchanging sleepy smiles. It wasn't long before all that was heard in the room was just the sound of their steady breathing.

Santana had never felt this calm before. It was nice. She didn't exactly feel completely liberated, but she knew she could relax. For now.

In the quiet gap, Santana's brain heard Brittany's words from their time together at the park.

_"If you don't believe in magic, you'll never ever find it."_

But somewhere on the back of her mind, something was telling her that maybe she had already found her magic. And she was pretty sure that "it" was sharing a living space with her.

What was magic, anyway? Wasn't it the power to influence something by using some sort of mysterious, supernatural power? And wasn't that, in essence, what Brittany was capable of doing?

Santana had had a couple of years of training in terms of peering into the space, but keeping both feet out the door. Ever since both of her parents were gone, Santana had learned two things. One, the weak doesn't survive, and two, if you don't love, you don't hurt. Those, among other things, were reasons why she put up walls so high up and sturdy that nobody would ever succeed in climbing it, or tearing it down.

Brittany, however, slowly but effectively, did it. And just like how hard it is to stop a flood once the water runs over the dam, she couldn't stop Brittany from taking bricks, one by one, out of her walls. She wasn't sure she wanted Brittany to stop either.

"Brittany," Santana called, right before Brittany surrendered completely to tiredness.

"Yeah?" Brittany croaked, her throat heavy with sleep.

Santana turned her face left to face the sleepy blonde girl and said to her in the quietest of whispers, "I think I kinda  _do_  believe in magic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brittany's song for Tubbs is If You Rescue Me from the movie The Science of Sleep. Go watch it if you haven't :)


	8. Powers

**Chapter 8: Powers**

Santana had lost count of how many times she had hung out in the living room with the rest of the household. She convinced herself that maybe there _was_ something in the water. Or maybe the chemical concoction from all of Emma's cleaning supplies somehow seeped into her brain and slowly changed her from the loner girl who always went straight to her room after dinner into this weirdo who would rather roll her eyes at whatever nonsense this household came up with during their dull conversations around the coffee table.

Yeah, it must’ve been the chemicals.

Santana subtly shook her head. Scratch that. It was Brittany who had convinced her to stay the first time, and it was Brittany who kept convincing her to stay every night.

She remembered the first night she started joining the rest of the household in their nightly gathering. Brittany, curse her fast reflexes, caught her hand just before she took her first step up the staircase and shot her one of those looks; the look that had repeatedly made Santana bend her own rules of never caring. The look that made her agree to take Lord Tubbington home with them and split the cost of milk and cat food with the other girl.

It was also the look that convinced Emma and Will to let them keep the cat. Well… that, and the blonde’s unrivaled acting skills. Crying on cue wasn't an easy thing to do. In fact, that morning when both of the girls woke up to find Emma and Will's unpleasant faces in the room, and a certain kitten in Will's hands, Santana froze and Brittany completely took over.

Lo and behold, the next day, Will drove them both and Lord Tubbington to the vet to get it vaccinated. He had no problem warming up to Lord Tubbington even though he was more of a dog person.

Emma was another story, though. Even though she was the first one who agreed to let the girls keep the cat (Santana figured it was her effort to make way into the girls' hearts), she needed more time to handle her cleaning anxiety, which was perfectly understandable. Nevertheless, after a few weeks of avoiding the feline and arming herself with a dust buster, she regressed to only carrying a lint remover. And that was because a certain blonde girl convinced her to.

Brittany.

Magic.

oOoOo

_As soon as she was done drying all the dishes, Santana excused herself to go to her room. She really didn't have anything better to do up there, but she was afraid that if she stayed downstairs too long, she would be trapped listening to everyone else's tedious stories about their day. She was afraid that she would love it._

_She was about to take her first step up the stairs when something stopped her in her tracks. She felt a hand covering her wrist and immediately knew that it was Brittany. No other person in that house would've dared to._

_"Santana," Brittany called her and Santana turned her neck halfway just to tell the blonde girl that she was listening._

_"No, Brittany," Santana whined. "I'm not going to stay and listen to these clowns. I'm going upstairs."_

_"Why?" asked Brittany. "So you can read that newspaper again? I bet you've read it a million times before and you have every word memorized already."_

_Santana scoffed. She didn't like what Brittany was saying because it was true. "So?" Santana asked. "It's my newspaper, my life, and my night. You can't make me do what I don't want."_

_"Santana, wait," Brittany called her name and once again she caught Santana's hand and pulled it slightly. "I know it's important to you, Santana. I do. Even though you've never told me what it is that's in that newspaper, I can tell that it is. Your face gets all frowny and sad. You probably don't even realize that sometimes you cry reading it."_

_Santana was embarrassed. It was true. Sometimes she didn't even realize that she was crying until she saw herself on a mirror, and she was embarrassed that Brittany had been witnessing those moments._

_It wasn't like Brittany had never seen her cry before, because she definitely had, but Santana would've liked to keep those weak moments to herself._

_Santana fought to get her hand out of Brittany's, but it was no use. Brittany had quite a grip on her and she had no intention of letting Santana go._

_"Let me go, Britt," Santana whispered angrily through her teeth._

_"No," said Brittany. Her voice was firm. "I'm not gonna. I don't like seeing you sad, Santana. We're best friends and best friends don't let each other be sad. Please stay. I promise you won't have to do it again tomorrow if you don't want to. Just please don't go upstairs tonight. Just this once."_

_There was something about the way Brittany's voice cracked at the end of her speech, and the squeeze that she did to her hand that made Santana’s heart feel like she was taking a plunge in a rollercoaster. But it was what made her keep their handhold and reluctantly follow Brittany's tug towards the living room to endure the most boring, most mind-numbing conversation, started by Will, about the sweater vest sale going on in the local apparel store, and a new organizational tip that Emma found that day in a housekeeping magazine._

_If it weren't for Brittany's periodical nudges on her upper arm, she would've lost her patience and suffocated herself with the couch cushions. She really didn't know how the other two kids in the house had the energy to keep their façade of enthusiasm. Puck especially, because he really didn't seem like the kind of boy who would last long in those types of situation._

_Never mind._

_Santana knew what it was. Puck had already told her. This was the closest thing to a family that he could ever get, and he wasn't going to ruin it. Somewhere deep inside, Santana admired his standpoint — not that she would ever admit it._

_In spite of all her inner resistance, though, Santana couldn't deny the fact that she was glad she stuck around that night. In the middle of a self-centered monolog about how he had been pushing for a music club at the school he was teaching, Will showed the kids the "office". Santana always thought an 'office' was just a fancy term to call a room with a desk with piles of paper on top of it, with probably a bookshelf filled with pretentious self-help books that nobody ever really needed. As it turned out, it was really where he had been keeping all his trophies (they were small and unimpressive, Santana thought), and something else. A piano._

_Santana stared at the musical instrument sitting on the corner of the room, wide-eyed._

_"You have a piano?" she asked. She cursed herself for not being able to stop the question from flowing out of her mouth, but whatever. She couldn't believe that this boring old house would have something that she could actually like._

_Will's face lit up. He and Emma looked at each other as if they had succeeded in peeling a layer of an onion that was Santana. This was, after all, the first time Santana had ever raised a question on her own._

_"Why yes, Santana," Will took some steps forward. "It's not a fancy, grand one, but this bad boy has been around for a while. I used my first paycheck to buy it."_

_"Do you play?" Brittany asked her roommate._

_Santana shrugged. "I had lessons."_

_"Could you show us?"_

_Santana shrugged again. She didn't dare to look at Brittany because she already knew that her roommate wouldn't have to do a lot of convincing to make her play the piano. She also knew that Brittany had already put on that look again. Damn her powers._

_"Not very good at it," she told the rest of the house, still avoiding Brittany’s eyes._

_She lied._

_As a matter of fact, for a girl who only had less than a year of lessons, she was pretty good. Both of her parents, especially Antonio, were very musical people and they passed on their passion to their daughter._

_Santana remembered posing for pictures with her very proud parents one night after a Christmas recital. She also remembered how her dad used to brag about how his ‘Santanita' was going to be famous one day, and that Ines and himself would follow her around the world and be at every show._

_"Oh, come on, Santana," she heard Puck say. "Show us what you got."_

_If it had come from someone else in the room, she would've considered actually playing because, in all honesty, she had been missing the feeling of keys touching her finger tips and the notes that she was capable of bringing to life. But she didn't miss the, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is a nice little song,” that Puck mockingly disguised under his breath._

_So she sent him a sarcastic smile and a comment about how he wouldn't be able to hear it anyway even if she ended up playing a perfect rendition of Schumann's Traumerei because he loved himself too much. "I mean, you_ really _love yourself."_

_The innuendo wasn't missed by anyone, except probably by Brittany who quickly told everyone that she loved herself too — and everybody else. However red Puck's ears had gotten from anger and frustration of not being able to throw Santana a clever comeback, it turned into his normal skin color after hearing Brittany's sincere comment. He excused himself to get another glass of water._

_Will cleared his throat. "Well," he said to Santana. "Now that you know where it is, feel free to use it. But please don't mess with whatever you see in this area," he moved to the other side of the room and gestured to his desk and bookshelf. "I have important documents here — some of them are legal matters. It's not that I don't trust any of you guys, but even I don't trust myself with them. So please remember that, okay?"_

_Brittany firmly nodded while Santana gave him a positive shrug. It was all the promise she could muster that night._

oOoOo

Santana sighed.

There she was, months after that first night, sitting on the same crème colored couch in the living room, ready to go through another hour, maybe two, of acting like she really wanted to be there to listen to Will and Puck talk nonsense about football and other manly things, and watch as Emma slipped in comments about how wonderful her day was only to get cut off by Will with a line that showed the very little amount of appreciation he had for Emma's daily life _. "That's great, honey. Say, how about some coffee?"_ or, _"aw, sorry to hear that, sweetheart, but did you hear about what Principal Figgins told me today?"_

Santana never said anything whenever that happened. Most of the time she would roll her eyes. But she rolled her eyes so much, and at almost anything, that Will, Emma, and Puck had stopped reacting to the gesture. It was a part of Santana and they had learned to live with it, and to leave her alone.

But Brittany had the privilege of bearing witness to the behind-the-scenes of the Santana Show. Every night, when the girls were back in their room, Santana would go on and on about how awful and self-absorbed Will was. Sometimes she would even go as far as saying that Emma shouldn't have married Will in the first place.

The blonde half of the duo always half agreed because while Brittany didn't argue with Santana's point of view, she thought Will and Emma were actually cute together. Despite the fact that he was heavily preoccupied with himself, he took the time to help Emma with the dishes. He put away things, knowing that Emma really didn't like it if things were out of place. He would wash the strawberries and sometimes with a toothbrush, one by one, if Emma couldn't convince herself that they were clean enough to eat. Santana's go-to response to Brittany's grounds? _“I guess,”_ complete with a signature shrug. She really didn't like being proven wrong. Or half wrong, in this case.

"Oh my god," Brittany closed the door and walked towards her bed. "That pie was amazing."

Santana gave her a half smile and nodded. She huffed, quite loudly, as she went through her sleep clothes in the dresser.

Brittany looked at her. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Your 'nothing' is always something, Santana."

"Britt, let it go," Santana huffed again. "It's nothing. I'm just tired. It's been a really long night."

Brittany sighed. Sometimes she thought Santana's walls weren't just too high, but also riddled with ivy that made it even more difficult for her to climb.

"You know what I think?" asked Brittany to an unsuspecting Santana as she peeled off the blanket from her bed.

Santana paused in the middle of fluffing her pillow. "I'm not a mind reader, Brittany. So no, I don't know what you think."

"I think you're sweet," Brittany said through a grin.

Santana scoffed. "I'm sweet?  _I'm_  sweet?" she asked Brittany twice, pointing to herself, making sure that Brittany knew who she was referring to. "Did you bump your head?"

Brittany stopped what she was doing and thought about her answer. She scratched her temple. "Yeah, I kinda did," she said. "Lord Tubbington refused to get out from under the bed even after I told him to very nicely. So I had to get in there and drag him out."

"And then you bumped your head?"

"No," Brittany shook her head. "He ran into the kitchen. But when I got there I couldn't find him, so I started opening the cupboards. That was when I bumped my head. On one of the doors."

"Did you find Tubbs?"

"Yeah but he wasn't even in the cupboards," Brittany pouted and Santana couldn't help but chuckle. "He was under one of the kitchen stools."

Santana shook her head. "Brittany, you gotta be more careful," she told Brittany sweetly. "You're gonna get banged up one of these days and we don't want that."

Brittany smiled. "See?"

"See what?" Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Brittany, you have to stop assuming that I can read your mind."

"You _are_ sweet, Santana," Brittany climbed up her bed and Santana climbed onto her own.

"Am I not supposed to care if you hurt yourself?"

"No, I mean," Brittany pulled her covers up to her shoulders and turned sideways. "I wasn't wrong when I said you're sweet. And I really don't see why you think it's wrong to say that you are."

"Brittany," Santana scoffed again and shook her head. She really couldn't see why anybody would call her sweet. "I bet you if you ask Emma, Will and Puck, none of them will agree with you calling me sweet," said Santana with her fingers making up two giant quotation marks in the air.

"But that's just it, Santana," said Brittany with a higher tone. "It's because nobody could see it — because I'm the only one who gets to see that side. And I'm super happy about it, but I wish you'd let other people see it too."

"Britt, I'm seriously lost here. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the way you've been saying how Will's an ass for taking Emma for granted."

"Um," Santana squinted her eyes. "I've never said that."

"Never? Really?" asked Brittany and she shot Santana an are-you-kidding-me look. "Come on, Santana. We both know that's a lie. The other day you told me that Emma should've married a hunky dentist because dentists don't have to stand in front of classes and therefore, not as self-absorbed as Will. Plus, they always have awesome white teeth."

Santana pursed her lips. "Well, okay maybe I did say that…"

"And the day before that you said you wanted to punch Will for never actually asking how Emma's day went. She had to start her own topic and even then, Will rarely listened."

"Well, yeah, bu—"

"Well, there you go. Even though you have a different way of showing it, it sounds like you care about Emma, Santana. Ergo, you're sweet," said Brittany with confidence.

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Ergo?"

"I heard it on Electric Company."

"You still watch that show?" Santana tilted her head.

"Yeah! It's a good show. I know you think it's for kids, but they rap and stuff. Sometimes they breakdance too. It's totally cool," Brittany shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Santana slowly nodded. She really didn't have the energy to argue at the moment. "If you say so."

Brittany gave her a small smile, thanking Santana for not making fun of her even if it was easy to.

"You're avoiding the topic," Brittany accused her.

"Guess I am."

"I don't get it, Santana," Brittany suddenly sat up. "Is it that bad for you to let people know you care? Are we supposed to not care? Have I been wrong all this time?"

"No," Santana shook her head and quickly answered. "Do whatever you want to do, Brittany. Just because I'm this way, doesn't mean you're supposed to be like me. Just be you. Stay this way. Be your caring, loving self," said Santana and she made sure she looked at Brittany straight in the eyes when she was talking to let her know that she wasn't lying. "I have my reasons."

"Any chance you'd tell me what they are?" Brittany pouted and Santana had to chuckle at the genuine question.

"Probably," Santana said. "But most probably not."

"Okay," said Brittany. She reached for the lamp switch on the wall between their beds and flicked it off and spoke again. "You know you're going to someday. I have powers."

Santana chuckled and threw a pillow at Brittany. But all she got was Brittany saying that it was true and she didn't argue.

"I really think I can control people's thoughts," said Brittany. Then she yawned and spoke again, half-asleep. "Hope you'll dream of rainbows and ponies."


	9. Doug

Brittany glanced at Santana before swinging her backpack onto her shoulder. The latter girl didn't look thrilled at all to arrive at their new Middle School. The side of her head was leaning on the window and she was sitting like a rag doll in a cupboard. Her eyes were looking through the window, but they weren't focused on anything at all. It was as if she was looking at something far, far away.

Brittany tilted her head. Santana did this a lot; she got lost in her cloudy mind a lot. Not as much as before, though. In fact, the frequency of Santana getting lost in her thoughts had decreased significantly. Brittany liked to think that she had something to do with it, and sometimes Santana even showed it with her shrouded words, but she could never be sure. Even though they were considerably closer, Santana was still a maze whose walls were equipped with hidden nooks and crannies.

"Santana," Brittany waved a hand in front of her friend's eyes.

"Santana," another voice came from the driver's seat. "Are you okay, honey? The bell's going to ring soon."

Emma didn't want to seem like she couldn't wait to get rid of her girls, but she really didn't have time for this. She had a job interview that day and she needed to make sure that she was at least 30 minutes early. That was also why she couldn't wait any longer for Puck to be done with his morning hair ritual. She regretted ever giving permission (and the money) to Puck to buy hair gel. The amount of time he had been spending to make sure his hair was 'perfectly imperfect' was ridiculous.

"Santana," Brittany tried again and this time she put a hand on Santana's shoulder and shook it a little. "You ready?"

Santana was brought back from her daydream. She turned to face Brittany and gave her a pointed look. "I'd rather lie around in bed," she huffed. "But whatever."

Brittany chuckled and shook her head. She reached over and opened the door on Santana's side and scooted over when the other girl was finally out of the car. She gave the door a good push to close it, but not too hard that it would make bang that would make Emma cringe.

"Bye Emma," Brittany waved to her guardian for the last time and the woman rolled down the passenger window.

"If you need anything, get the secretary to call Will. All of the teachers here know each other, and he's just next door," Emma pointed at a high school entrance right next to the gates; McKinley High School.

"Have fun, okay? I'll be picking you up later," said Emma with a reassuring smile.

Brittany nodded. "We will," she said. Santana's response was only a delayed half smile that Emma didn't see before she drove off.

They were about to walk into the building when a heavy voice startled them. "Hello there, girls," a hefty man in a suit and a cowboy hat approached them wearing a strange look on his face. "You're new, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

There was something in his voice, and even in the glimmer of his eyes that didn't settle well with Santana. She unconsciously took a step forward and set her left foot slightly in front of Brittany, as if she were a guard dog. "Yeah, we are," she said with a daring look on her eyes. "And you are?"

The burly man laughed. "My, my, you're a feisty one," he said, taking off his hat. "The name's Doug Geoffrey, girls. I just so happen to be the chairman of the school board."

Santana eyed the man up and down. She didn't like him. She didn't like the reeking smell of sleaze oozing out of his pores and too shiny shoes.

Doug stretched out his hand. "What's your name?" he asked Santana.

"None of your business. But if you're the chairman, I'm sure you can find out fro—"

“I'm Brittany," Santana got cut off by a hand coming from behind her, reaching out to shake Doug's.  _A good first impression is important,_ her father's advice replayed in Brittany’s ears.

"Hello there, Brittany," Doug sandwiched Brittany's hand with both of his as he shook it. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Sir," Brittany replied, taking a couple of steps forward to get in front of Santana. She knew what Santana was doing, and she appreciated it. But she couldn't help it if she was super friendly. "This is my best friend Santana."

Santana closed her eyes, took a deep breath and subtly shook her head. As sweet as Brittany was, sometimes it was too easy to be frustrated with her.

"Brittany and Santana," Doug pointed at the blonde girl and then at the Latina. "Best friends?”

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, we live together."

"Is that so?" asked the man with an amused tone. Santana didn't like it at all. Truth be told, she felt a little bit intimidated, if not threatened, by the stranger.

"Yeah, we live with Will and Emma," said Brittany, pointing to a car in the distance. "Emma just dropped us off. They're our foster parents."

"So both of you are foster kids?" the man moved his head up and down, nodding to the new piece of information that he just learned. The corners of his mouth twitched a little and almost formed a smile that made the hair on the back of Santana's neck stand up.

The bell rang and Santana got her exit. She quickly turned back into her protective mode and snapped. "Look, Mister. I get that you somewhat rule this school, but I'm pretty sure our home life isn't any of your business," she grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled her behind herself.

"So if you'd excuse us, not that it matters if you don't, we need to find the principal's office. C'mon, Britt," Santana turned around and practically dragged Brittany with her.

"See you around, Brittany, Santana," Doug waved after the girls and Santana shuddered at his thick Southern twang. She hastened her steps and Brittany, even though she was overpowered by Santana's haul, managed to wave back with a smile.

"Santana, slow down," Brittany protested. When Santana didn't, she stopped in her tracks, pulling the other girl into a halt. "Santana!"

Santana let go of Brittany's hand. "What, Brittany?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. We need to get to the principal's office, okay? The bell rang."

Brittany squinted her eyes in disbelief. She knew Santana wasn't telling the whole truth. "It's not just that, is it?"

Santana crossed her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Were you scared of that man?"

"What? No," Santana scoffed and shook her head. She looked at Brittany, who was now looking at her knowingly. "Okay, fine. If you must know, that man creeps me out. Seriously, Brittany, there's something wrong with him."

"You say that about everybody," Brittany smiled. "Bet you said that about me too when you first met me."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Not the point, Britt. He was looking at you like he was Takeru Kobayashi looking at a sausage."

"He was just being nice, Santana. Besides, he's a part of this school. He's not gonna do anything bad. People would know," said Brittany with a sure look on her face. "And I can take care of myself. I'm not that smart but I can take care of myself."

Santana took a deep breath. She felt guilty for making Brittany think low about herself. "I know, Brittany. I didn't mean to— I was— I just don't like the guy, that's all."

Brittany pursed her lips and nodded. "Okay."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Santana pleaded with her eyes and kicked the floor with her right foot. "I'm sorry if you thought I didn't think that you're smart enough to take care of yourself. I really am."

"It's okay," Brittany shrugged. "It's kind of true, anyway. It's my fault for not always understanding stuff."

"No, Bri—"

"But thanks for looking out for me," Brittany cut Santana off and gave her a small smile. "Come on," she grabbed her best friend’s arm. "Let's go to the principal's office. We're late."

Santana didn't argue. If Brittany could respect her enough to always drop a 'Santana issue', then she should return the kindness.

oOoOo

Brittany was enjoying her day immensely. She and Santana had found out that they were put together in the same classes and were even given lockers that were next to each other for the whole year, and she was really thankful for it. She made a mental note to thank Will later, because from the way the secretary kept mentioning his name when they came by the office to pick up their schedules, she just knew that there was no way Will didn't have anything to do with the arrangement.

Judging from how Santana let out a sigh of relief as soon as she was done reading her schedule, it looked like she wasn't the only one who was pleased with the arrangement. And this made Brittany even happier.

Even though Brittany had always loved school — not the subjects, but the promise of making new friends everyday — she was worried that she wouldn't be doing a good job keeping up with the curriculum, now that she didn't have her mom and dad anymore to help her. Brittany knew she wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed and, strangely enough, Santana was the only one, besides Emma and sometimes Will, who was capable enough to handle her unusual way of thinking. Knowing that Santana was actually content with their identical school year fates planted a much-needed seed of encouragement.

They got through their first few classes without any trouble. Santana rolled her eyes every time the teacher asked the whole class to introduce themselves. Their names, hobbies, favorite this and favorite that. She really hated that sort of nonsense. If she wanted to get to know her fellow students, she would've asked them questions herself. Or at least considered it.

 _"OMG please make her shut up,"_ she passed Brittany a piece of paper during some dark-haired girl's — her name was Rachel — super long, super boring introduction about herself, and her affinity for space exploration.

Brittany chuckled and scribbled on the paper before she passed it back to Santana. _"Longest speech ever. Who's this Barbara she keeps on talking about anyway?"_

 _"Streisand, Britt. And it’s spelled Barbra. She’s this famous actress-slash-singer-slash-Broadway legend,"_ Santana wrote.

" _Oh, okay. I thought she’s her mom or something,_ " Brittany replied.

Santana scrunched her eyebrows before she jotted down a question. " _Did you miss the part about her having two gay dads?"_

Brittany smiled mischievously before writing again. _"A-ha! So you ARE paying attention to them!"_

 _"Please. The only reason why I'm listening is so I can tell the losers apart from the decent ones to hang out with,"_ Santana explained in the paper. _"So far, everyone's a loser."_

Brittany pursed her lips. She brought her upper body closer to her desk and started scribbling with her pen.

From the corner of her eye, Santana could see that her best friend was fully concentrating on what she was doing. She even took pauses in between before finally returning the paper to the original owner.

Santana smiled reading the reply and inevitably enjoyed the warm feeling inside her chest. How was Brittany so sweet, she wondered, but then she remembered that anyone who wasn't her probably had the capacity of being pleasant all the time.

" _It's okay. I'd rather hang out with you anyway,_ " the note said. It was short. But Brittany's doodle of two girls holding hands on the bottom was more than enough to bring a smile that lasted on Santana's face — until it was her time to introduce herself for the _third_ time that day.

oOoOo

Their second day of school was okay. Granted, Brittany still had to pull a grumpy Santana out of her bed and it earned her an earful of whining from the girl, but overall, it was a good day.

Brittany made a couple of friends. In Social Studies, she was partnered with a girl named Mercedes Jones. An African-American girl who came from a family of 6, the oldest among 4 children. She was loud, and just like Santana, she wasn't the type of girl who'd take nonsense from anyone. When a boy named David unceremoniously swiped Brittany's pen from her desk, Mercedes scolded him to no end and eventually made him return the "borrowed" item.

Santana watched the whole thing from her seat, two rows behind. She was about to jump out of her chair to give David hell when she saw him taking Brittany's pen, but instantly relaxed when she realized that Mercedes was already taking charge. Santana made a promise to be nice to Mercedes if they ever crossed paths in the future. But for the time being, she needed to focus on holding her breath and stop herself from barfing over this extremely ill-smelling kid with whom she was sharing a workbook on ancient civilization.

oOoOo

On the third day, Santana had given the better chair to Brittany to sit on and she was stuck sitting next to a strange, and horny, nerd whose looks were very unfortunate. His frizzy hair was actually his best feature.

"You're so hot," Jacob told Santana for the nth time, as he stared at her chest.

Santana shuddered, but she wasn't sure if it was out of distress or disgust. Brittany passed a note to Santana at one point, offering her to switch seats, but Santana said no. She would never subject Brittany to this level of repulsion.

Brittany suggested, and Santana considered, that maybe Puck could scare him off. He  _was_  a grade higher. But no. Santana wouldn't go to Puck just because some creepy boy couldn't keep his perverted thoughts to himself. She was badass enough to handle things on her own. So when the bell rang and as the whole class scrambled to get out of the door, Santana _accidentally_ stepped on his foot with all her might and for a whole month Jacob had to walk with a limp.  _That was good enough,_ Santana thought.

Brittany didn't approve of Santana's violent ways, but she still blew raspberries at Jacob every time they came across him for the rest of the school year.

oOoOo

On the fourth day, Santana and Brittany got lost on their way to Math — or rather, Santana let herself get lost with Brittany. Anything with Brittany was a million times better than actually going to classes.

"It's not your fault, Britt," Santana reassured Brittany. "All these lockers on the walls are confusing. But you don't have to worry because we have the same classes anyway."

"Cool," Brittany said. "You're like my personal Dora."

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Dora?"

"Yeah," Brittany confirmed. "You know, the Mexican girl with the monkey and the map? She always knows where to go."

Santana's jaw hung open. "Okay, first of all, I'm Puerto Rican," she said with a scrunch. "And second of all, why were you watching Dora?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "Sometimes when I wait for my turn to use the bathroom on Sundays I get bored. And Dora's the only thing on TV that early."

"What about the morning news?"

"Let me clarify that," said Brittany in a serious tone. "It's the only thing on TV with a talking monkey in it."

oOoOo

"So guys," Will took a sip of his water. "How is school so far? I heard from Puck both of you are quite popular now?"

"We are?" Brittany asked and Santana stopped her chewing. It was only the end of their first week at East Lima Middle School. Surely they couldn't be popular yet?

"Totally," Puck said.

"Why?" Santana couldn't help but ask.

"Well, you guys are new. Nobody's ever seen you before the school year started since neither of you went to a nearby school," Puck explained after his mouth was empty. "Plus, I heard Santana beat up JBI."

"JBI?" Santana asked. Her relationship with the whole household had gotten better, in a sense. Once in a while she would actually make the effort of joining the conversation. Especially when the topic actually involves her. "What the hell is JBI?"

"Language, Santana," Emma reminded her with a firm but gentle tone, and she instantly felt proud of herself.  _We've gone so far_ , she thought, and it was true. She wouldn't have dared to complain about Santana's anything had it been a month ago.

Puck cut up a piece of his steak and brought it up to his mouth. "Jacob Ben Israel. JBI."

"Swallow before you talk, Puck," Will reminded the boy before he turned to Santana. "You beat up another student? I didn't know it was  _that_ kind of famous," he disappointedly rested his elbows on the table.

Santana rolled her eyes. "No, Will, I didn't. I wasn't even thinking about it."

"It's true, she didn't," Brittany quickly backed her up. "She just stepped on his feet."

"Brittany!"

"What? I'm just telling the truth."

"Santana?"

Santana huffed. She hated this. She hated losing power whenever Brittany was involved.

"Fine," she said. "I stepped on his foot, okay? But only because he was being a creep and was staring at my boobs."

Will choked on his water, obviously uncomfortable about where the conversation was going.

"I can vouch for that," Brittany raised her hand. "He was being rude."

"Still," Emma drank her water. "You shouldn't have settled with violence."

"Okay, hold up," Santana wiped her mouth with the napkin. "In case you didn't hear, Jacob was being a total creep. He was staring at my boobs and making comments about me. Doesn't that count as harassment? What was I supposed to do?"

"You could've told a teacher about it," Will suggested and Santana scoffed.

"Right, because I tell _everybody_ my problems," she said, rolling her eyes. "I barely even talk to you. What makes you think that I would talk to anyone else? And besides, Brittany and I are new meat," she made quotation marks with her fingers. "Being a tattle-tale is not a good way to start school."

Will and Emma looked at each other as they both processed Santana's speech. They could understand where she was coming from, but it still didn't justify her actions.

In the middle of the silence, Puck put down his fork and knife in such a way that he managed to grab the attention of the whole table.

"Don't worry about it, guys," he told Emma and Will. "JBI  _is_  kind of a creep. I mean, that dude seriously has no boundaries. Girls and guys hate him. A lot of people actually have beaten him up."

Will looked at Puck suspiciously and Puck quickly added that he wasn't one of them. "What I'm saying is that he probably deserved what she did to him," he said, pointing to Santana who was having a hard time believing that Puck was defending her. She was looking at him like he had multiple heads attached to his neck.

The man of the house brought his hand up and ran it through his gelled curly hair. On one hand, he wasn't happy with how Santana handled the situation. On the other hand, Puck had never made a case for Santana before, so that must have meant this Jacob boy was really over the line.

Will turned his head to face Emma, looking for some sort of hint as to what he was supposed to do. His wife sighed and gave him a smile.  _I'll take over,_ she magically transferred her thoughts to him and he instantly relaxed.

"Santana," called Emma from across the table. "While we don't like how you resolved the situation, we're… _happy_ … that you stood up for yourself — not that there was ever any doubt that you could. We're also happy that you didn't do anything more than that," Emma picked up a piece of chicken with the tongs and set it down on Santana's plate. "So, no more violence, okay? I mean it."

When Santana didn't quickly respond to her words, Emma held her breath. No matter how much (or little) they had gone forward with their familial relationship, there was always a worrying feeling lurking in the background that, just like a rubber band, Santana would just snap back to the one who went so far as going back to the group home after an argument.

But Brittany… the girl knew Santana so much better than any other person around her. She stayed quiet as the house discussed JBI, violence and her best friend. Not a word and instead, she watched Santana's face carefully during the whole exchange. There were so many things going on at once, so many emotions. She saw a flash of anger in the way Santana's jaw had tightened when the conversation started, but it didn't last. Santana’s expressions had grown softer and softer, and right now, Brittany could see how the outer corners of her eyebrows were down. That was how she knew Santana wasn't about to lash out.

"Yes," said Santana after a deep sigh, and a long while of silence. "Okay."

Emma and Will both beamed at her answer. They gave her a satisfied nod before returning their focus on the food. Santana, Brittany, and Puck did the same.

oOoOo

Santana was true to her words. For the next month, she never laid a hand, or a foot in this case, to anyone who crossed her lines. Then again, nobody ever dared to do it again because a) even if she didn't beat up Jacob, he still had to walk with a limp for the whole month, and b) Puck had secretly threatened anyone to not come near Santana, or Brittany for that matter.

The only person she was still inclined to maybe kick in the nuts was that big, suspicious man that she and Brittany met on their first day, even though she had already forgotten his name. It was like he was everywhere and was watching them on purpose. But then she thought that maybe it was just in her head, like how you'd start seeing cupcakes everywhere you go once you realized that you were in love with them. Only this time, it had nothing to do with love at all.

"Britt," Santana called as she stepped out of the restroom. They were finally familiar with every corner of the establishment. They memorized all of the important stuff, like where the cleanest water fountain was, the best meal to eat during lunchtime, where to hide during free periods, and most importantly, where the most nice-smelling restroom was located (on the west side, near the Computer Lab). "Who were you waving too?" she asked Brittany, whose arm was still midair from waving.

"Oh, you done?" Brittany turned around and Santana gave her an affirmative nod. "I was waving to Doug."

"Doug?" asked Santana. "Do we know any Doug? I don't think any of our classmates has that name…"

Brittany laughed. She started to walk towards their next class and Santana walked next to her. "No, silly. Not a classmate. You know, _Doug_. The fat man with the cowboy hat?"

Santana's eyes widened. "He was here?"

"Yeah, he was. He said he was on his way to the locker room to find the football coach."

"But," Santana scrunched her eyebrows. "The locker room's way over on the east side…"

"Well, I don't know if it's on the east side or not," Brittany shrugged. East, West, North, South. Those were all just names that made her life even more complicated. Why couldn't everybody point with their hands like her? "But I told him that he might be lost because the locker room's on the other side of the building."

"Huh," Santana bit her bottom lip and nodded. "Then what did he say?"

"Nothing. He just said that I was smart and very pretty. Then he left."

Santana did a double take. "He did _what_?"

"Um," Brittany hesitated. "He… left?"

"No, before that," Santana shook her head not believing what Brittany had just told her. "He said you're pretty?"

Brittany pouted. "What? I'm not?"

"Not the point, Brittany," Santana huffed. "You know you are. But that's not an appropriate thing to say to you by an old guy."

"Oh," Brittany nodded. Her little skips turned into normal steps. "Okay."

"Just stay with me at all times, okay, Britt? Even when I go to the restroom. Promise?" Santana offered her little finger and Brittany stared at it before she looked up again.

"Even when I don't need to go?"

Santana gave her reply a thought. "You watch Harry Potter, right?" she asked, and Brittany nodded. "Well," Santana smiled. "Hermione went to the bathroom alone and got attacked by a troll."

"Ooh. Gotcha," Brittany beamed and linked her pinky onto Santana's. "Okay, I promise."

oOoOo

Santana walked in the cafeteria and took a deep breath before walking to the table where Puck and his friends were sitting. She cleared her throat.

"Puck," called Santana. She didn't mean to sound so helpless, but the damage was already done.

"Santana," Puck nodded.

"Can we talk?" she asked. Then she flicked her gaze at the annoying onlookers at the table that were Puck’s teammates. "Alone?"

Puck eyed Santana up and down and put his sandwich down. He wasn't much of a Santana fan, but he got up from his seat anyway and led her to a quiet corner in the cafeteria. And when his friends started to catcall and mock him for being such a gentleman, he swiftly turned around and gave them all a death glare. Also a middle finger.

"What's wrong? Where's Brittany?" he asked once he was done threatening his friends. Santana was impressed. Puck was obviously high on the school's social ladder that his friends instantly quieted down at his threat. She didn't know this before.

"She's in the principal's office," Santana huffed.

Puck furrowed his eyebrows. "What did you do to get her into trouble?"

"Shut up," Santana rolled her eyes. "I didn't do anything. She was called there."

"Well one of you must've done something. They wouldn't call you for nothing."

Santana didn't know what to say. She was with Brittany the whole day in the same classes, and aside from passing notes, they really didn't do anything wrong enough to be sent to the principal. She did, however, have an inclination of what was happening.

Puck read Santana's face and it was telling him 'help me' — even though he was sure Santana wasn't about to ask him.

"There's something you're not telling me," Puck concluded but Santana stayed quiet. Her chest was heavy with ego and her bottom lip was held between her teeth.

"Fine, if you don't want my help," said Puck as he turned around. "You were the one who came to me."

"No, wait!" Santana grabbed his arm. "Do you, uh," she cleared her throat. "Do you know a man called Doug Geoffr—"

"Oh, Mr.G? Yeah, we know him. Big guy, cowboy hat, bolo tie?"

"Yeah, that's him," confirmed Santana.

Puck crossed his arms. "What about him?"

Santana took a moment to convince herself that this was Puck she was talking to. She knew he was someone that she could trust. At the very least, he defended her for handling JBI and she appreciated it. However big of ass he could be, he cared for her and Brittany.

"What do you know about him?" Santana whispered.

"He's in the school board. Sometimes he comes down for the football game and gives us pep talk and all that," Puck shrugged and answered Santana's question with a frown on his face. Why would Santana want to know about Doug Geoffrey?

"Does this have anything to do with Brittany?" he asked, and Santana huffed.

"Maybe," said the girl. Her arms imitated Puck's crossed ones. "I don't know yet. I just know that he's been watching her."

Puck uncrossed his arms and took a step closer. "Watching her how?" he asked carefully, and quietly in case anyone was eavesdropping.

"He's been everywhere we go. And I mean everywhere. We met him the first day, and I just got a funny feeling about him."

"Funny feeling?" Puck relaxed. "So it was just a  _feeling_?" He repeated her words and made air quotes with his hands. "Santana, don't be a drama queen."

Santana snapped. She took a step forward, leaving only a couple of inches between the edges of their noses. "Okay, you listen to me, you little prick. I know that we don't like each other and you get on my nerves so much that I'm so ready to cut one of my legs just to get rid of you. But here's the thing. As much as I hate you, and I’m sure you hate me too, we care about Brittany and you know that I won't make up something like this. There is something wrong with that man and I need to know his intentions," Santana took a pause to breathe. Her jaws tightened with worry and frustration at the same time. But she knew she wasn't going anywhere if she didn't explain it to Puck further.

"I saw him the other day," Santana took a deep breath, "watching us from outside the door when we were in English. Then when we were at our lockers, I saw him turn around and walk away from a corner, a few steps from where Britt and I were standing."

"He could've been keeping an eye at the whole school, you know? It’s part of his job," Puck said with a soft voice. He didn't think he would ever grow a soft spot for Santana, but there it was. If only Santana was that sincere about everything else, too.

"No, I've considered that too," said Santana. "But that was before Britt told me that he told her she was pretty."

"So?"

Santana raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'so'?" she asked. "That's kind of an inappropriate thing to say to a 12-year-old kid, especially when you're like 50."

Puck scratched the back of his neck. What Santana said made sense. Doug shouldn't have been making comments like that, but maybe he was just being nice.

"Maybe he was just being nice?"

Santana blinked a few times. "You're serious?"

Puck opened his mouth to talk, but before he even made a sound, Santana saw Brittany happily skipping towards them. So she quickly made him promise to not say anything to anyone yet — not even Will.


	10. Sad

"Um," Santana walked into the kitchen and found Emma already busy in it. "Morning," she said tentatively. It didn't sound wrong to say it— it didn't sound right either — but she was definitely surprised at how good it had felt to just let the greeting roll out of her tongue. Judging from how slow Emma was turning her head around, Santana could tell that the woman felt the same way too.

"Good morning to you too," Emma said with a gleam in her eyes.

The older woman really wasn't expecting Santana to be in the kitchen this early, on a Saturday. Brittany, maybe, because she had always been so sweet from the beginning. Always happy to keep Emma company, even after Emma told her not to do anything but sit at the table (Brittany didn't want to crack the eggs and ended up knocking down the flour when she was hiding them from Emma. "Why can't you use Bisquik instead of cracking a baby chicken's house?").

"You're up early," Emma smiled. "Usually it's Brittany who wakes up first."

Santana shrugged. "She's still in bed. I think she's tired from gym yesterday."

"Oh," Emma nodded. "Well, then. It's a good thing I'm starting breakfast. What do you want?"

"Uh," Santana stuttered. "It’s okay. I was going for cereal."

"What?" Emma chuckled. "Don't be silly. No cereal. It's Sunday. Cereal is for school days. You know on weekends we go all out. I got my 'kick butt pancakes' apron on — Puck got me this for last year's birthday — and I'm ready to kick some butt in the kitchen! Woo-hoo!" Emma pumped her fist into the air and Santana eyed the graphic on the apron.

**_MY PANCAKES KICK YOUR PANCAKES' BUTT!_ **

Between Emma's very poor attempt at being cool, and Puck's embarrassingly predictable (but arguably cute) gift for the ginger, Santana actually had to fight a smile.

Emma didn't miss how Santana bit the inside of her cheek and how she pretended to scratch her nose to conceal a smile. So she gave herself a mental pat on the back for her small victory before she beckoned the Hispanic girl to come closer.

"You can say no if you don't want to," said Emma, raising both her hands up. "But do you want to make pancakes with me?"

Santana looked up. "You want me to make pancakes?"

Emma nodded excitedly. "Mm-hm."

"Me… making pancakes… _with you_?" Santana asked, pointing her finger at herself, then at Emma.

Emma nodded again with a big smile. "Yeah," she said as she grabbed Santana an unused apron from one of the cupboards.

oOoOo

"Britt," Santana closed the door shut with her foot and walked carefully to Brittany's bed. In her hands was a tray with two little plates of Emma's fresh stacks of pancakes, with a bowl of whipped cream on the side and two glasses of apple juice.

It was one of Brittany's many quirks to have cream on the side instead of right on top of the pancakes. Santana thought it was weird at first, but she got used to it. Just like how she had grown accustomed to everything else Brittany.

"Emma said we can have breakfast in the room today," Santana said as she put down the tray on Brittany's nightstand. "She and Will have something to do somewhere — I wasn't listening — and Puck's already out to a game. So nobody's gonna be there at the table," she told the girl who was staring at the ceiling, still lying down on the bed.

"Britt?" Santana called the blonde again when she didn’t get a response. She watched Brittany's eyes open and close, open and close.

Brittany answered lazily. "Hm?"

"You okay?" Santana asked. She sat on the edge of Brittany's bed and brought the back of her hand to feel her friend's forehead, in case she was coming down with something. "Well, you feel okay. You're not feverish..."

Brittany smiled simply. "I'm okay. I just feel," Brittany paused and closed her eyes. "Heavy," she finished. "I feel heavy."

"As in… fat?" Santana asked, confused. Brittany was far from fat. In fact, she was probably more athletic than herself. "Because I don't think anybody would say that you are, Britt."

"No," Brittany softly shook her head and looked at Santana. "It's not that."

"What is it then?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "I just don't have the energy."

"The energy? The energy to do what?"

"To feel happy."

Santana leaned back on Brittany's headboard and put her legs up on the bed. "You don't have to, you know?"

"But I can't be sad."

"You can," Santana told her. "Brittany, you're allowed to be sad."

Brittany took a deep breath. She put both of her arms on her sides, on top of the covers, and huffed. "I don't want to."

Santana thought of her reply before she spoke. Talking to Brittany wasn't hard — really, it was not. You just had to think like her. And Santana took pride that she was getting better at it.

"Sometimes, it feels good to just let yourself be sad once in a while, Britt. Throw a tantrum. Cry your heart out. Bitch at people." Santana said. "But just… don't do it all the time," she added.

Brittany chuckled. "Like you?"

Santana playfully slapped Brittany's shoulder. "Smart ass," she smiled. "But yeah. Not like me."

"I guess you bitch at people enough for the both of us," Brittany nudged Santana with her elbow.

"That I do," Santana smirked. "But only because you're friendly enough for the both of us. It's all about balance, Britt."

Brittany frowned. "But… if I'm sad and you're sad and angry," she looked at Santana. "Where's the balance? We can't  _both_  be sad…?"

Santana shuffled on the bed so that she was lying on her side now, eyes leveled with Brittany's. "Tell you what," she said with a soft smile. "You go ahead and be sad. I'll be the happy one for as long as you need, and I'll try to make _you_  happy. Sound good?"

"I'm kind of skeptical — is that the right word? Skeptical? — about this," Brittany scrunched her eyebrows. "I really can't imagine you being happy, Santana."

"D'uh. Which is why I'm going to try and make you feel happy again so we can be normal again, silly! And yes, skeptical is the right word," Santana smiled. "Okay, then. Project Happy Brittany starts now," she said as she passed Brittany a plate of mostly warm pancakes.

oOoOo

It took a lot of convincing from Santana to make Brittany come downstairs. She finally agreed to it because Santana promised to make their lunch. Brittany joked about how it would probably be just PB&J, just because she had never seen Santana actually cook in the kitchen. But Santana just smirked. ”Wait till I'm done,” Santana had said, and that alone was enough to make Brittany get out of the bed and take a shower.

Brittany sat on her legs on the couch as she flipped through the channels. On her lap was Lord Tubbington, sitting cozily, surrendering to Brittany's soothing strokes on his furry back.

"Oh my God," Brittany shrieked over something she saw on the TV. "Electric Company's on! Santana, you seriously gotta watch this!"

Santana popped her head out from the kitchen. She took advantage of the minutes Brittany was spending in the bathroom to slice, dice and flip, effectively making them a meal that would surprise her roommate in just a minute. "I'll be done in a sec! Do you want lemonade?"

"Yeah, thanks," Brittany yelled back. She could hear Santana shuffling around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. She heard plates and glasses knocking softly into each other and when she heard footsteps coming to the living room, she knew Santana was done.

Brittany turned her head around and watched as Santana brought in a tray. "Seriously, what did you cook? It smells so good!"

Santana put down the tray on the coffee table with a grin. "Ta-daaah! Quesadillas!"

"Casa-what? What's in it?"

"Quesadillas. It has cheese, of course, some leftover chicken from last night, green onions, a bit of mushrooms, tomatoes… and more cheese," Santana grinned.

"Wow," Brittany breathed. Her mouth was watering from the smell alone "It sure isn't PB&J."

"Yep, sure isn't," nodded Santana with pride. She took a slice and for the second time today, she passed the plate to Brittany, who thanked her with a sweet smile.

"It's like a thin crust pizza… but a sandwich," Brittany said, eyeing the food on her plate with awe. "Where did you learn to make this?" she asked before she took a bite, and Santana shrugged.

"It's pretty easy. It's almost like making grilled cheese, only with a different kind of bread."

Brittany looked up and stared at Santana. Her chewing stopped.

"What?" Santana asked. "You don't like it?"

"No," Brittany shook her head and covered her mouth as she spoke. "It's delicious. But why do you do that?"

"Um," Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Do what?"

"That thing you do when you don't want to answer a question. It's like when they tell people to take a right turn when there's construction on the road. It's a…" Brittany's eyes moved upwards as she thought of the right word. "A detour!"

Santana huffed and sipped her lemonade. "The word that you're looking for is 'deflection', Brittany," said the girl. "And if you must know, I learned it from my mom. She used to cook a lot. That's all I'm gonna say," Santana paused. "You know, if she was still around, I bet I'd be a famous child chef or something."

"Yeah?"

"Totally," Santana confirmed. "I could've been on my way to becoming the next Nigella."

"Or Paula Deen."

Santana nodded. "Yeah, or Paula Deen. Without the extra fat. Like, a hot, latina version of Paula Deen," she said with a wink.

Brittany chuckled. "Well, judging from how awesome this quesadilla is, I'd say you could be a great chef."

The cat on her lap purred and Brittany pulled off a piece of her food. "You wanna try it? Here," said Brittany, setting her hand right in front of Lord Tubbington's nose. A little more than a second later, the cheesy goodness was gone from her hand.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Brittany," she whined.

"What?"

"I didn't make it for that stupid cat."

"Don't be mean, Santana."

"Fine. I didn't make it for that _fat_ cat."

"But I like to share," Brittany pouted. "And look," she pointed to the cat who was moving slowly to her plate, which Santana snatched away. "He loves it. You should be proud."

Knowing that the argument wasn't going anywhere, and that she was going to lose anyway, Santana turned her attention back to the TV.

"Fine," she said. "But I'm not making anymore of it. And you know he's gonna eat everything."

Brittany only laughed and continued to feed the cat. Santana, on the other hand, kept giving Lord Tubbington the evil eye.

"Stupid cat," Santana mumbled and Lord Tubbington hissed.

"Santana, stop talking to our baby like that," Brittany covered Lord Tubbington's ears.

"Britt, look at him. He's hardly a baby anymore. I'm telling you, he does not need further spoiling. Ugh, and what is this show?" Santana took a bite of her food, scrunching her eyebrows at the TV. A guy with a baseball cap appeared on screen and started beatboxing. "Oh, hell no. This guy is totally too old to be doing kids shows."

Brittany recognized the beatboxing man. "Aw. Don't say that. Katie loved him," said Brittany with a half pout.

Santana paused from chewing her food. She dug into the back of her mind and tried to connect the name to Brittany’s stories from the past. "Katie… as in… your sister?"

Brittany nodded, not taking her eyes of the TV. "Yeah. She thought beatboxing was cool. We would spend hours and hours practicing." A pause. "We had so much fun together."

Santana smiled tenderly at her friend. Now she knew why Brittany wouldn't stop talking about the TV show. "Are you any good at it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But definitely not as good as those guys," Brittany pointed at the TV. "Sometimes my dad would put on a show and attempt to do it. Worst. Beatboxer. Ever," she chuckled.

Brittany continued her story and Santana listened attentively. She let Brittany take over their conversation, nodding along, smiling at funny moments. She had to admit, Brittany's family seemed perfect — just like hers — not that there was ever any doubt about it. There was no way a kid like Brittany raised herself into perfection. There was just no way.

From what she had gathered, Brittany's dad was a fun man. Very much like Antonio. He was an engineer for a big electrical company in Ohio, and he was quite a handyman. Brittany told Santana about how he had built a fort for his daughters one day, and it wasn't just a fort out of chairs and blankets. He had actually gone out of his way to build a real one out of planks and set it out in their yard.

"So, other kids have their tree houses, Katie and I had our castle," Brittany said proudly.

"He sounded awesome," Santana smiled.

Brittany agreed. "He was perfect."

Santana wondered whether or not their families would've liked each other. And then she scoffed internally. Of course they would've liked each other. They would've had lovely picnics at the park. Had summer vacations together, probably. Spent weekends not trapped house-sitting.

"And my mom, she was the best dancer ever. She was a teacher, but she loved to dance. When I was little, before Katie was born, my dad used to tell us all these stories about her performing somewhere and I remember thinking, 'wow, when I grow up, I wanna be just li—‘"

Brittany's voice cracked and Santana instantly turned her head to look at her friend.

A teardrop.

Santana scooted over. She grabbed Lord Tubbington from Brittany's lap and set him down on the floor. She gently took Brittany's plate away from her hands. "Hey," she reached over for Brittany's hand but ended up hovering over it.

Two.

Brittany's eyes were looking at something far away as the tears came, and the sight of it was torturous.

Three.

Santana was losing it. She really couldn't stand it. The heartache that came with Brittany's tears was worse than what she had felt when the both of them shared her linden in the park.

Four.

Fivesixseven teardrops, and Santana raised a white flag.

"Brittany, look at me," Santana finally let her fingertips touch Brittany's forearm. When Brittany looked up and finally met Santana's eyes, she asked again. "You okay?"

It was a stupid question and Santana mentally smacked the back of her head. She already knew Brittany was not okay, but she couldn't help but be awkward at these things (she did spend a couple of years building up emotional barricades), even if it was her best friend who was sitting in front of her.

Brittany forced a smile (Santana heard that cracking noise that she hadn't heard for a while) andshook her head."No," Brittany told her best friend honestly. Her hands moved to cover her eyes as if it would stop them from leaking.

"Do you want a hug?" Santana asked.

Brittany answered with nothing but little nods and a sob, and Santana hammered down her walls in a snap. She opened her arms and wrapped Brittany in them.

"It's okay," she rubbed Brittany's back. Up and down, up and down. "Sshh…"

"I'm sorry," Brittany whimpered. Her tears were running and her hands were clutching the back of Santana's T-shirt. "I can't stop."

"It's okay," Santana reassured her again. "Cry all you want. It's okay."

Brittany sobbed harder into Santana's shoulder. "I miss them, Santana. I really, really miss them."

"I know,” Santana answered, trying as best as she could to stop her voice from cracking. Her heart broke for Brittany, her heart broke for herself, but most of all, her heart broke for the fact that they would always have days like this, forever.

"I'm here," Santana told Brittany, just like how Brittany had told her months ago, when Santana was the one who was helplessly crying into her shoulder. "I'm here."

oOoOo

"Do you ever wish for another set of parents? Like, a new family?"

Santana looked up to the person who was braiding her hair. Brittany had finally calmed down after 30 minutes of full on crying, and after spending 15 more of those minutes to finish their lunch in silence, the blonde girl told Santana to sit on the floor and let her do her hair.

The way Brittany's hands were going through her hair soothed Santana in some capacity. It brought back memories of lazy afternoons with her head resting at peace on Ines' lap. Bittersweet, but thankfully not enough to make her want to curl up in her room and come back to that old piece of newspaper.

She felt guilty because Brittany, the girl who was just crying on her shoulder, was making her feel content. Her heart was fine. No cracking noises, no nothing. Just a cherished quietness inside.

Santana paid attention to the way the air around her moved as Brittany's hands gracefully braid her dark hair. Then she listened carefully to the way Brittany was breathing.

It was steady and soft.

Calm.

Like she hadn't just spent half an hour pouring her heart out onto Santana's shirt.

It was then when Santana realized that, whether or not she was being active about it, she was helping Brittany calm herself down by letting Brittany take control of her hair.

"Is this why you're sad today?" Santana asked. She already knew the answer.

"Kind of," Brittany told her. Santana was about to turn her head around when she felt a pull on her hair. "Don't move, silly," said Brittany, so she did what she was told.

After a long beat, knowing that Santana was letting her speak what she was feeling, Brittany spoke again. "Sometimes I do," she said. "At first, I didn't want it. I thought nobody could ever replace my real family."

Santana nodded without a sound, just to let Brittany know that she was listening.

"But sometimes I want someone to tuck me in at night. Call someone 'mom'. Call someone 'dad'. You know, those kinds of things."

Brittany tapped Santana's shoulder lightly and Santana handed her the bobby pin that she had been keeping safe in her hand.

"And I can't do that with Emma and Will," Brittany sighed. "I mean, they're super nice, and we're kind of like their kids already. But… you know what I mean?"

"So you want them to adopt you?"

Brittany shook her head. "No, no. I don't mean I want them to be my parents. I'm just saying that I like the idea of being someone's daughter again. Maybe somebody's big sister? I don't know. I'm being stupid."

"Hey, no," Santana grabbed Brittany's wrist without even looking. "It's not stupid. A lot of kids like us feel the same way. Why would you think it's stupid?"

"Because," Brittany huffed. She jiggled her wrist a little bit so that Santana would free her right hand — and she did. "Because, I feel like I'm betraying my family. If Lord Tubbington suddenly left us to live next-door or something, I'd be really angry at him. Wouldn't you? And don't you think my parents would be angry if I got a new mom or dad?"

"Okay, first of all, I stand by what I said. That's not stupid," Santana gently laid down the law. "Second of all, LT wouldn't leave us because we're awesome."

A pause.

"I take that back. Tubbs wouldn't leave you because you're awesome. Fatso hates me."

"He doesn't."

"Oh yes, he does. And finally," Santana continued. There was a change in her tone and Brittany thought it couldn't have gotten any softer. She wondered if other people would ever get the chance to hear this Santana because they should. She sounded like pink clouds.

"Britt, your parents wouldn't be angry if you got adopted," said Santana. "From what you've told me, I can tell that they were just as awesome as you and they loved you. Very, very much. I'm sure they'd want you to be happy."

"Yeah?"

"Totally," Santana reassured her friend.

"Would your parents be happy if you got a new family? Did you ever want it?"

Santana nodded and answered the second question truthfully. "I went through that phase for, like, a year after they were gone."

"A year?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I went back and forth about it all the time when it happened."

"Really? How so?"

"I was just… really messed up in the head. I still am now."

"Why?"

"I just have a lot of anger," Santana shrugged. She let Brittany take a moment to figure out what she had said. But of course, nothing Santana said could be deciphered that easy.

"Angry at...?" Brittany asked. Her voice was small. She knew what she was doing. She was poking a bubble. And Santana knew it too.

Santana opened her mouth and closed it again. She wasn't sure why the conversation was turning into Santana 101, but she thought if it could take Brittany's mind off her family for a little while, it's fine. Because Brittany was worth it. She deserved to have a moment where she could just stop pretending to be happy, however short it was.

"You know what? You don't have to ans—"

"It's okay. I can answer this one." Santana cut her off. "I was angry at myself, at my dad," she cleared her throat. "So I would want a pair of new parents one day, but then I'd hate the idea the next just because," Santana took a deep breath. "Just because I didn't think I deserve them."

Brittany stopped her braiding. "Why?"

Santana shook her head. Her bubble was torn enough and she wasn't about to make the slash grow bigger. "That's a story for another time, Britt. Not now, sorry. I promised you that I’m gonna be the happy one today, right? Your questions right now aren't helping the cause, so…" Santana finished with an open ending and let her words float in the air.

Brittany just nodded understandingly. If she was disappointed in not getting her answers, she didn't show it.

Brittany continued what she was doing. She took Santana's hair and made sure she was doing a beautiful job with it. Her friend's long, dark locks? Too gorgeous for her to ruin with deformed braids.

"Can I ask you one more question? I promise it's not about your past."

"Shoot."

"Do you still want it now? Like, do you think you'll ever want it again?"

"A new family? Hm," Santana pondered as Brittany gently took a small part of Santana's hair and crossed it with another. "N'ah, I don't think so. At least, not anytime soon."

"Because you like it here?" Brittany teased and poked Santana’s shoulder. "I promise I won't tell anybody."

The darker girl chuckled. "Honestly? Yeah, I like it here. It's definitely better than the group home, that's for sure. The bed's nice and soft, I get to share a room with just one person instead of five. Also, killer dinners make Santana a very happy girl."

"What about the people?"

"What about them?"

Brittany shrugged even though Santana couldn't see her. "Do you consider people living in this house as your family? Like, is this home to you?"

"You wanna know the truth?" asked Santana. She tilted her head a little bit to give Brittany access to her hair.

"Of course. Always."

Santana huffed.

"Okay. But only because I don't want you to think I'm not doing everything I can to make you happy," she said, holding a finger in the air. "And nobody, I repeat, nobody except me and you can know about this, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany nodded. "Promise."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Just tell me already," Brittany chuckled. She gently nudged Santana's back with her right leg and Santana lightly smacked her knee for it, laughing along.

"I think," Santana weighed her answer. "No. I still don't consider this as a family."

"But—"

"Wait, I'm not done," Santana cut her friend off, holding her left hand up so that Brittany shut her mouth immediately. "I still don't consider this as a family, and I don't think this is my home. But I honestly think that it's getting really, really close to it."

_Wow,_ Santana raised an eyebrow and thought to herself. That had felt oddly liberating for her, to be saying it out loud.

"That's awesome," Brittany secured Santana's braid with a rubber band and tapped Santana's shoulder to let her know that she was done. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Yeah, well," Santana lightly touched her new hairdo. "You and I both."

"What changed your mind?"

"I don't know," Santana stood up. She sat on the couch, tucking her legs under her and told Brittany to turn around with a wave of her hand. "I just feel that way."

"You love us," Brittany stated with a head turn and a smirk.

"No," Santana quickly answered. "Well, okay. Not 'no' but not 'yes' either."

"Well, which one is it?"

"You're my best friend," Santana answered quickly, not ready for anything remotely close to something more. She paused for a moment, looking at Brittany who was looking back at her, investigating any concealed bad messages behind Santana's words. "You're my best friend, and trust me, it's a good thing," Santana repeated with a small smile.

_You don't love, you don't get hurt._

Brittany didn't miss the way Santana's walls were slowly building up again. She smiled thinly and nodded. "It's the best thing ever," she told Santana and turned around again so that she could get her hair done.

"God, your hair's so pretty," blurted Santana as soon as the soft golden locks were in her hands.

Santana split up Brittany's hair into two parts and split one of them into three. She loved Brittany's hair. She was sure Brittany would be as luminous as she was even if her hair wasn't blonde, but the bright sheen was just… she didn't even know. There were so many words she could use to describe it, and Brittany, but there wasn't any that would do it justice.

"That sounded so creepy," Brittany told her with a giggle.

Santana smacked Brittany's shoulder. "Shut up," she chuckled. "It's true! I don't know how many shades of blonde there are but yours is the prettiest."

oOoOo

Santana was bored. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost 6 and nobody was home yet. Talking to Brittany and spending the whole day with her was awesome and all, but staying at home was not.

If only she hadn't said yes to Emma's plea, they would've been spending the day outside. The redhead was just too paranoid about everything _. ”Don't leave Lord Tubbington at home alone, I beg you,”_ Emma had said to her this morning — and Santana would've said no if it weren't for that exquisite smell of freshly made pancakes.

_Damn that woman and her culinary skills,_ she cursed silently.

"You're bored, aren't you?"

Santana looked at Brittany with a frown. " _So_  bored. Aren't you?"

"Meh," Brittany shrugged. "A little bit."

"Just a little bit? I'm so ready to make a whole new wardrobe from the curtains right now."

"I don't think Emma would like that," said Brittany in a serious tone.

"I'm not saying that I'm gonna, Britt," Santana chuckled.

Brittany exhaled in relief. "Oh, good. Because I've never seen anybody wear curtains before."

Santana blinked a few times. "You've never seen the Sound of Music before?"

"Um," Brittany hesitated. "I didn't know we can see sound…"

"No, Britt," Santana smiled tenderly. Even Brittany's cluelessness was endearing. "It's a movie. The Sound of Music."

"Ooohh," Brittany drawled out her 'oh'. "Is it any good? It sounds fun."

Santana nodded. "Totally! People sing in it. It's old, but it's one of my secret favorite movies. And I got a feeling you'd love it too. It cheers me up, like, always."

"I need that movie now, I think."

Santana nudged Brittany with her shoulder. "Still sad?"

Brittany shrugged. "Not as much as before," she huffed. "Now I'm just mostly hungry."

"Ha."

"Yeah, yeah, you can say it," Brittany crossed her arms. "Tell me I shouldn't have given LT my food."

Santana smirked. "Told ya."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but just like that, she was cut by the ringing sound of the telephone.

Brittany got up from the couch. "Next time you cook for us, you need to make some for LT," Brittany said as she walked into the kitchen to get the phone and Santana raised an eyebrow.

"Nuh-uh," Santana made a face. "Never gonna happen."

Santana heard Brittany greet the person on the other side of the telephone line and she decided to busy herself with an extremely boring magazine she found lying around (actually, it was center-aligned neatly on the coffee table). She really couldn't bring herself to understand why in the world anybody would be interested in reading 3.5 pages about yarn organization. But the more she thought about it, the fact that someone would actually do the research and write a whole article about it disturbed her more.

Santana flipped the pages and stopped at only the most colorful ones, even if they were made out of random shots of ribbons and buttons. Some were actually interesting only because they had DIY stuffed animals and she was thinking about how much Brittany would've loved the plushies.

Speaking of Brittany…

Santana put the magazine down and stretched her neck all the way to take a peek at the kitchen — or at least to listen to what Brittany was doing.

"No, we're fine," she heard Brittany whisper.

_Why is she whispering?_ Santana tilted her head.  _Who is she talking to?_

She got up from the couch and started to walk towards the kitchen. She heard vague whispers from Brittany and stopped in her tracks.

"I don't think she likes him." A pause. "Me? Well he's always nice to me so I don't know what to think," Brittany told the person on the phone and took a pause. Santana assumed she was listening to whatever that person was talking about. "What did they say?" Brittany asked and her expression changed into something unreadable. "Oh, I see," she spoke again.

By this time Santana's curiosity was way passed piqued. Obviously Brittany was hiding the conversation from her. Or else, she wouldn't have been whispering. So Santana made her steps to the kitchen faster. She made sure to not bump into anything, hoping to not scare Brittany that she would hang up. But the universe wasn't on her side that day. Her foot accidentally kicked a lamp stand. It didn't make a loud noise, but she had to make sure the lamp was still standing and not on its way to becoming broken pieces on the floor. By the time she got to the kitchen, Brittany had already put the phone back to where it belonged.

"Who was it?" Santana asked.

Brittany, who was looking for a cold snack, stood up straight so that she could see the girl who was talking to her from behind the refrigerator door.

"It was Maria," Brittany said, her hand resting on the handle.

"Maria?" asked Santana and the other girl nodded. She took a few steps closer to Brittany. "What did she want?"

Brittany closed the refrigerator door and took a few steps herself, backwards, away from Santana. For some reason, she intimidated her even though she knew Santana wasn't doing it on purpose.

"Nothing," Brittany forced a smile. "She was just calling to tell us that Will and Emma are picking up Puck and they're on their way home. They were at her office. Will forgot his phone and Emma ran out of battery. They'll be home soon."

"Uh-huh," Santana crossed her arms and looked at Brittany suspiciously. Brittany was such a bad liar. "And you guys talked about nothing else? It sure took you a while."

"Nope," Brittany shook her head. "Nothing at all. I gotta go, uh, over there," she pointed at nowhere in particular. "I mean I gotta feed LT."

Santana watched as Brittany turned into this klutz that kept on bumping into things, taking out Lord Tubbington's bowls from the cabinet.  _Something's not right_ , Santana thought. Brittany, bless her long limbs, was one of the most athletic, most coordinated persons she had ever met.

Santana waited until Brittany passed her by to catch her wrist.

"Brittany," Santana said, hand firm on Brittany's. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Brittany shook her head, looking at every spot in the house but Santana. "No, no I promise nothing's wrong."

Lies.

But the agreement for that day was that she would let Brittany do whatever it was that she wanted.

"If you say so," said Santana. She slowly let go of Brittany's hand and the latter girl hurriedly, nervously, walked out of the kitchen.

_You don't love, you don't get hurt,_ Santana repeated the mantra in her heart. Over and over and over again.


	11. Favorite

**Chapter 11: Favorite**

Brittany's weeks had been going fast, but sometimes slow too, depending on how many times she had to stay behind to get lectured by the teachers about her 'studying habits'.

Mrs. Williamson, the old math teacher with a gold incisor, turtleneck sweaters and loafers that looked like they were 100 years old, told her to stay behind after almost every class. She would then hand Brittany a piece of paper, most of them were her bad quiz results, and basically talk her down for them.

"I need you to be smarter, Miss Matthews", she would say. "I won't have slow kids in my class."

Brittany didn't like what she had to say. It wasn't like she _wasn't_ trying to be better. Numbers were just not something she was good at. She couldn't help it if 2's started to look like ducks and 8s like eggs stacked together — which, by the way, was an extraordinary mental image by itself.

God bless Mr. Andrews, though, the Social Studies teacher. He was one of the rare breeds of teachers that both Brittany and Santana actually liked. Maybe it was because he was actually a decent one, or maybe because unlike the other ones, he had a reasonable sense of fashion and didn't smell of old cologne. To top it all off, he had a 5-year-old, and it armed him with enough patience to face a thousand middle school students. They behaved pretty much the same anyway.

Once, Brittany answered a quiz about how a bill becomes a law by using Lord Tubbington and Santana's relationship as an example.

Her answer was two pages long.

But instead of making a complete fool of Brittany in front of the whole class, he actually took his time to read and try to decipher Brittany's way of thinking. He pulled her aside after a class, asked her some questions, and that was it. Even though he didn't give her an A, or a B, she still got a C. And that was more than what most teachers would've given her.

Unfortunately, Mr. Andrews was one in a million. Brittany was having trouble keeping up with the rest of the school staff who weren't as willing to take the extra effort to understand their students. So Brittany let it go. She spent several days feeling down the first time it happened, but that was it. She got used to patiently, albeit reluctantly, sitting on her chair listening to teachers throwing her derogatory comments and threats of failing.

The only consolation she had was Santana, always waiting right outside the door for her after every class, ready to pounce on their teachers at her command — in case anybody crossed the line (nobody should ever cross whatever line her best friend drew with her Crayons). But no, Brittany would never tell Santana to do it. She didn't like violence. Plus, she wouldn't want Santana to get in trouble because of her problems. So instead of saying yes to Santana's offer, she made her promise to be her tutor.

Despite her whines and groans when it came to going to school, Santana was one of the kids at the top of their class. But to be honest, it wasn't the main reason why Brittany asked her to be her tutor. Yes, it was easy for Santana to understand how things work, but more importantly, she knew how the cogs in Brittany's head work. Consequently, she knew how to explain things in colors and shapes in a way that Brittany would comprehend.

Santana said yes, of course. And she even said it before Brittany had to pull out her _Pouting Powers_. She wanted to do it purely for selfish reasons. School without her best friend — without Brittany — would just be an extra layer of hell in that hellhole of a small town.

oOoOo

"I can't do this," Brittany said one night, putting her pen down, exasperated at the same damn page on her Ancient Civilizations book that she had been staring at for at least half an hour.

"Yes you can, Brittany. Come on." Santana urged her, picking up the pen and holding it up again so that Brittany would take it from her hands.

Brittany shook her head. "It's no use, Santana. I can't memorize it. I don't understand what these words mean."

Santana pushed the book with her finger on one corner so that it would face her. "Brittany," she said after reading the page. "Okay. They kinda _are_ big words. But you got no choice. You need to memorize it for the test tomorrow."

"How am I supposed to remember anything if I can't even understand them? Why can't there be a test about Alice in Wonderland. Or Finding Nemo or whatever? I'd totally get an A for that," Brittany huffed and slumped, resting her chin on the desk. "Why can't there be a class about Disney movies and fairy tales? Why can't we read storybooks instead? I'm good with those."

Santana smiled widely. She turned off the lamp on the desk and pulled Brittany up.

"Come on," she said as she dragged Brittany across the room to her bed with a grin. "Make yourself comfortable."

"But," Brittany looked at her, confused, but she climbed up her bed anyway. "Didn't you just say I need to study?"

"Oh, we're still going to study," Santana said, walking back to the desk and picked up the book. "But we're going to study the Brittany way. I'm going to read you a bedtime story."

"I don't see how that'll help me at all, Santana..."

"I'm going to read you Greek mythology bedtime stories, silly!" Santana grinned proudly and climbed up into her own bed. "I'll just sub all the hard words as I tell them to you. That way, we can both learn at the same time."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," Santana smiled as she shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

Brittany sat up on her bed and brought her knees to her chest. "You're my favorite, you know that, Santana?" She smiled back, resting the left side of her head on the pillow she had put between her knees and chest. "You're my favorite."

oOoOo

Brittany got a B for that mythology test, and a lot of other tests for subjects that allowed Santana to tell her reworked bedtime stories. You'd be surprise how very entertaining metamorphosis could be, what with Santana giving all the caterpillars and butterflies in the book fake voices.

The rest of them? Well… let's just say that if they weren't taught by Mr. Andrews, they played a prominent part in making Brittany's weeks less pleasant than what she had hoped for.

Sometimes all she wanted to do was to just talk back, and she almost did, once, during an after school special with the chemistry teacher. She was that close to slam her hand onto the desk and just be… mad. Real mad. She wanted to yell at them that maybe — just maybe — they were the ones who needed to start teaching better, instead of nagging her to be smarter.

"You should try it," shrugged Santana when Brittany told her about her frustration. The girls were spending the rest of the night reading old editions of teen magazines given by a neighbor who ran the local grocery.

"Maybe it'll feel good," Santana added.

"Will it?"

Santana shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe you won't like it, maybe you will. I'm just saying that sometimes you need to stand up for yourself. I can't be there all the time."

Brittany blinked and looked at Santana wordlessly. Her hand faltered from flipping a page. Had she been a burden to Santana all this time? Was she annoyed that she had to stick around every day after school?

She brought her eyes down and looked at the magazine page opened before her. There in a bold, pink letters:  _Are You a Good Friend? Get your score and find out!_

Brittany traced the words with her hands.

Maybe she wasn't.

_Friends don't weigh their friends down. Especially not best friends._

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

The voice startled Brittany and she looked up to the owner.

Santana wasn't even looking at her when she continued. "I didn't mean it that way," the darker girl said as she closed her magazine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brittany shook her head.

Santana took off the elastic band on her hair just to tie it up again into a tight ponytail. "Well," she said. " _I_ know what you're thinking about. And you need to stop. I wasn't saying that I'm annoyed or anything. And I certainly don't feel like you're a weight I need to carry around."

"I don't think you can carry me, Santana," replied Brittany seriously.

Santana smiled to Brittany's simplicity. "How would you know? I've never even tried. You'd be surprised with my hidden powers."

Brittany huffed and looked down to her hands. "I wish there was a power to make me smarter."

"Why would you want that kind of power?" asked Santana. "You already are."

"Yeah, right," Brittany scoffed. "Tell that to the teachers."

"Well, I would if you let me," Santana smirked. But then she put on her serious face again. "No, seriously Britt. You already are smart. Maybe not in the same subjects as other people, but you're definitely smart. You got a lot of B's for your tests—"

"You helped me."

"By telling you the stories once, Brittany. Once," Santana raised a finger. "Do you know how many times I had to read those pages before I got them in my head? Probably 20 times. I wish  _I_ had your brain."

"You wouldn't like it."

"Why?"

"Because it gets D's and F's in everything else."

"So?" Santana walked over to Brittany's bed and sat on the edge. "Some people are good with numbers, and some people aren't. Some people play the piano, some people play guitar. Nobody said you have to be good at everything, Brittany."

"When you're in school, you kinda have to be."

"Well," Santana rubbed the back of her neck, giving it a little massage after stretching it. "That's kind of true. But my point is… don't sell yourself short. You are smart, Brittany," she looked at Brittany pointedly. "You are smart, and you are smart enough to want to be smarter."

"Um," Brittany scratched her ear. "I think I'm confused."

"What I mean is that you don't give up," Santana smiled. "Look at you. Those teachers tear you down, but you keep coming to school. You keep trying to get good grades, and that's smart to me. A lot of losers would've just… I don't know. Quit school… sell drugs… you know? A lot of the older kids in the group home ended up living in the streets because they didn't want to go to school even when they had the option to go."

"I guess…"

"And plus you know loads of things that people don't. Cats, for example — even though sometimes it's scary how much you know about them," said Santana, unsuccessfully avoiding a pillow thrown to her face. "So you can't say that you're not."

Brittany pursed her lips. Santana did have a point.

"And," Santana added. "If I didn't want to help you, or wait for you after school or whatever… you know I'd tell you. I wouldn't be hanging around if I thought you were trouble."

Santana handed Brittany the pillow that she threw and jumped out of the bed at the same time. "Just… you know, I'm here and stuff and stuff."

Brittany laughed at her friend's choice of words. "This conversation's too soft for you, Santana?"

"That's all the cheese I could handle in one night," Santana laughed back. She turned off the lights and climbed into her own bed. "Night, Britt."

"Night," Brittany fluffed her pillow and whispered a thank you to the other girl before she fell into a sound sleep that night, her mind light from Santana's lovely words.

oOoOo

"Hey girls," Mercedes tapped Brittany from behind. Of course, the plural word was intended for both the blonde and her best friend who was always there with her during classes, or at the lockers.

"What's up, Sash?" Santana eyed the girl. There was something off about her and it showed through her outfit. Mercedes was known for her 'loud' wardrobe. Everything she wore was a statement — contrasting colors, prints, big hair — but in a good way. She let her attitude carry the outfit, instead of letting them take her over. Today, though, she looked like she stole her outfit from a secretary grandma.

Beige. All beige.

"You look like you haven't had tater tots for a week," Brittany stated simply, and Santana internally applaud her for always knowing what to say.

Mercedes scoffed. "Try two."

Brittany's eyes widened. "What? Are you serious? But they're your favorite."

"Yeah, well," Mercedes crossed her arms. "Apparently my mom read somewhere that too much oily food would affect my brain power. She said I needed to cut back."

"Is that even legit?" Santana asked. She didn't like tots that much but she had to admit, she felt a little bit threatened by that piece of information.

Mercedes shook her head weakly. "I don't even know. I don't have the energy to look it up. All I know is that it feels like I'm losing a part of me."

"Wow, someone's being overly melodramatic," Santana rolled her eyes. "It's just food."

"Shut it, Santana. I'm serious," Mercedes scowled. "You don't know how it feels to be losing one of your favorite things."

"That's not true, Mercedes," Brittany quickly refuted before Santana had a chance to lose her temper. "We know how it feels."

"You're right," Mercedes held both her hands up and sighed. "I'm sorry. I know my problem right now sounds shallow compared to your life, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't suck. And I totally have the right to be melodramatic."

"Well," Santana started talking under Brittany's subtle threat of sporting a pout and puppy eyes. Well, that and she was suddenly reminded of the promise she had made to herself on the first day of school to be extra nicer to Mercedes. "While losing a favorite food item is nothing like losing your whole life, I can understand the emotional regression. Whatever, Sash. I'm sorry too."

With exchanged smiles, the three of them turned around and walked away from the lockers. They had English in about 3 minutes, and the teacher wasn't going to let them sit in peace if they were late.

"So why did your mom say you're losing brain power?" Brittany asked.

"I got a C at math."

"You got a C and she banned you from tater tots?"

"Yep, that's what happened."

"Man," Santana shook her head. "What would she do if you got an F?"

"Whoa. I don't even want to think about that. She'd probably lecture me about how hard my dad's working to provide for me, about how I should repay them by studying," Mercedes shrugged. "And ban me from tots for the rest of my life."

"Harsh," Santana said and Brittany was quick to parrot.

Mercedes huffed. "I know."

oOoOo

"Can I come in?"

Will looked up from the papers he was grading. He smiled at the blonde girl peeping through the office door. "Brittany," he smiled. He could really use the break from scribbling letters on his students' tests. "Yeah, sure! Come in!"

Brittany straightened up her posture and walked towards Will's desk. He pointed to a chair set in front of it, and she plopped down. "This chair's pretty," she stated. "Not very comfortable, though."

Will laughed. He loved how honest Brittany was. True, sometimes she could be confusing. Other times, however, her comments were like one of those teddy bears that smelled like mint. That was how Emma described it. Fresh and adorable at the same time.

"I bought that at a flea market," he answered. When he saw Brittany making a face, he clarified. "They don't sell actual fleas, Britt. People there sell really old stuff that they don't want anymore."

Brittany made an 'O' with her mouth and nodded understandingly. A little bit relieved that the chair she was sitting on was not sold alongside of fleas in little cages, but also felt a little bit disappointed. She had always wanted to see a flea circus. Or, better yet, run a flea circus. There were times where she would get lost in thoughts of collecting Lord Tubbington's fleas, train them, and get them to do somersaults while pushing a teeny tiny cardboard shopping cart.

But no. Brittany wouldn't do that kind of cruelty to her animals.

"Brittany?” called Will to the girl sitting in front of him. "Brittany, are you okay?"

Brittany blinked. Will's voice brought her back to the present.

"Yeah," she smiled and subtly shook her head. "I was just imagining what it would be like being a ringmaster."

"A ringmaster?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "Wouldn't it be cool?"

Will smiled. "Totally," he said. Mint scented teddy bears indeed. "You can sit there as long as you want, Brittany. But uh, if you need to talk to me… do you mind if I finish grading these papers first?"

While trying to find a more comfortable sitting position, Brittany shook her head. "No, go ahead," she said.

She really didn't mind. She didn't have anything to do. Emma was crocheting; Puck was busy with his guitar in his locked room. Neither of them needed her help.

Santana? She went to the park and had specifically asked to be left alone. Brittany obliged. Who could blame Santana for wanting some quality time with herself? After spending so much time with Brittany, showing her left and right, helping her study, spellchecking her homework and all that, Santana deserved some freedom. Besides, Santana would tell her if there was a riff between the two of them, wouldn't she? She would never lie to her, right?

 _Yeah,_ Brittany thought.  _She wouldn't. She's not me._

Brittany stretched her neck, looking around the room. It wasn't a big room. In fact, she remembered it being a little bit bigger the first time she saw it. But then she realized that there were more piles of papers on top of Will's desk and more boxes stacked on the floor.

She watched as Will repeatedly ran his fingers through his gelled hair before giving a student a grade. It was funny. He would start writing with his Sharpie, but then stop after the first stroke. Then he would sigh and adjusted that stroke into what Brittany guessed was a higher grade. B to B+, to A even. He just couldn't bear to fail a student.

Although now that she thought about it, didn't it mean he was letting his student pass the class without understanding the subject? Didn't it mean he was a bad teacher?

"You know, it's so hard for me to give a D," Will chuckled and put aside the last sheet of exam paper. "Every time I go to write it down, I just…" he shook his head. "A part of me dies inside whenever I think about the kids who actually put the effort into the test."

"What do you do then?"

"I give them a C," he shrugged. He stretched his arms up to relieve some fatigue. "And then I write some words to encourage them to do better."

"Isn't that kind of like cheating?" asked Brittany with a frown on her face. "Only reversed?"

"Well, I guess you can see it from that point of view," he twirled the pen in his hand, sporting a sad smile on his face. "I just don't want to see the disappointment in their faces, in their parents' faces. I just can't do it."

Brittany bit her lip. "What about me?" she whispered. "What about my grades? Are you disappointed in me?"

"Brittany," Will gave her a soft smile. He leaned back on his chair. "Is that why you're here?"

Brittany shrugged. "Maybe."

"Well, you can relax," he chuckled. "I'm not disappointed in you."

"Are you just saying this because you're my foster parent? If you were, like, I don't know… If I were your actual daughter, would you still say the same?"

"Ah," Will nodded his head. "I know what this is about. And I'm going to be very honest with you, okay?" he intertwined his fingers and brought his hands behind his head. Brittany carefully nodded.

"I would be lying if I didn't say that I would love for you to get better grades," he started and Brittany automatically looked down to where her feet were. "But I know you're trying, Brittany. I know that you've asked Santana to help you with your studies, and you've been doing all your homework as best as you can. Frankly? That's more than enough for me. And if you were my daughter, I'd still feel the same."

"Really?"

"Of course!" Will smiled.

"What about, uh," Brittany brought her hand up to start biting her nails, but pulled it back down. Santana wouldn't have liked it if she were there. "What about real parents? I mean, not my parents because they're not here anymore… but what about, you know… adoptive parents?"

Will gave a thought to his answer. "Well, if someone adopted a child, then they should be ready to treat them how any parents would treat their biological children," a pause. "What do  _you_  think? Would your parents be mad at you?"

"My dad never got angry about my grades." Brittany shrugged. "My mom would get upset sometimes, but never angry. She'd remind me to keep trying, and they always told me that there will always be other things that are more important than school grades."

"And there are," Will agreed. When he finally saw Brittany's whole pose relaxed, he continued. "They sound like wonderful people. "

Brittany pursed her lip and nodded. "They were awesome."

The conversation was interrupted by a loud noise coming from Will's phone. He excused himself and picked it up.

Immediately, right after Will greeted the person on the other end of the line, Brittany knew it was a serious matter. His demeanor changed. There was heaviness both in his voice and the way his shoulders slumped.

One-word answers, a lot of huffing, a few times of running his hand through his hair.

Yep. Definitely serious.

Will didn't get out of the room, though. He didn't step away from Brittany for one bit. Instead, he kept glancing at her as he spoke into the phone. Brittany wondered if there was a chance the phone call concerned her.

He stayed on the line for a few minutes, and when he hung up the phone, he stayed quiet. Brittany watched him. She was waiting for him to start talking again and he knew about it. Yet he took his time, rearranging folders on his desk, putting back the red and blue markers into the container. Brittany thought it was as if he was preparing himself for something bad. And she hoped with all her might that it wasn't something bad.

It wasn't until he set another beige folder that he took out from the drawer on his desk. He took a second to look at it. Then he looked up and met Brittany's eyes.

"That was Maria," he exhaled.

 _Oh, so it was about me,_ Brittany played with the hem of her shirt.

"I need to give these back to her tomorrow, Brittany. Or at least this weekend. But I need it to be your decision before I sign," he said, pointing at the idle folder and Brittany took a few other deep breaths. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I can just put this back into the drawer, if you want," he asked. Upon watching Brittany's expression changed from emotion to emotion, he hesitated.

"No," Brittany's voice stopped his hands from grabbing the folder.

"No?"

Brittany shook her head. "No," she confirmed. "You can sign it."

Later that night, when Santana was telling her a story about a war that happened in ancient Egypt, Brittany got out of her bed and climbed onto Santana's and tucked herself in as best as she could. They were getting bigger and the bed seemed to be getting smaller.

"Britt?" Santana looked at her best friend who was covered with the blanket up to her neck. "Is everything alright? Do you wanna stop? I mean, the test isn't until Thursday so we still have ti—"

"I'm sorry, Santana," Brittany looked up.

Santana was confused _. Brittany was sorry? Sorry for what?_

Santana closed the book she was reading out loud and put it aside on her nightstand. "What's this about?" she asked. "Is this about me helping you study again? Because I've told you bef—"

"Just," Brittany cut her off again. "For everything. You've been so good to me, and I can't do the same for you."

"What are you talking about? Seriously, Britt. You usually confuse me with random things, but this is super confusing," Santana scrunched her face.

"Sorry, it's nothing. I'm just tired," Brittany turned around and pretended to yawn. But before Santana made a comment about how she wasn't fooling anybody, Brittany spoke again. "You know," she started. "If I'm ever to leave this house, I'm going to miss you the most."

It was the way that Brittany said it — like she was blowing an invisible horn that had the power to stop a football game — that made Santana let go. She knew she wasn't going to get anything else than that. So she settled with switching off the lights. She fluffed her pillow and lowered herself until she was lying down on the mattress.

A few seconds passed and Santana used it to stare at the ceiling before she finally (thought that she had) figured it all out. Maria's phone call several weeks ago, Brittany randomly bringing up the subject of parents. It all became somewhat clear.

She just wished Brittany had told her about the whole ordeal.

Then again, she wasn't one to complain. Brittany had let her keep all of her secrets hers. So she would do the same.

"And I would miss you," Santana whispered. "Cause you're my favorite, too."


	12. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Sorry guys, somehow I ended up replacing "Mercedes" with "Sasha" in the last chapter. Note to self: Don't edit 2 stories at once.

Summer faded into fall easy like a marble rolling effortlessly down into a hole, leaving nothing but a memory of its streaks of colors. Bright colored t-shirts hidden underneath subdued hues of jackets and coats, and the green outdoors was now orange. Beautiful still, but an air of gloom could be felt even though it wasn't a sad season in particular.

"Do you know who it is?" Santana turned on the basement light and started walking down the stairs. It was laundry day for both girls and they each got a basket in their hands.

"Doug," Brittany held her breath almost immediately after answering.

"Oh," Santana blinked. "Wow. Okay…"

Brittany set her basket on top of a makeshift folding station that Will had built for Emma with Max and Puck.

"How long have you known," Santana cleared her throat, "that he was trying to adopt you?"

Brittany bit her lip. She already knew Santana wouldn't like the answer. Then again, it was her fault for keeping it so long from Santana, so she figured she should just come clean.

"I've known since about… the first month of school," she quietly said, looking at anything but Santana. "But like, nothing was settled or anything. Sometimes he'd call me to the principal's office and ask me questions and stuff."

"And you didn't tell me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You don't like him."

"Brittany," Santana slammed her basket down, using her best friend’s real name instead of her nickname. "The man went out of his way to tell a 12-year-old that she's pretty! Now you tell me if I shouldn't be suspicious of him! But believe it or not, that's not my problem right now. My problem is that if you had told me about this sooner, I wouldn't be disliking you as much as I do right now."

Santana opened the dryer with a little more strength that she should've. The machine door slammed into the wall and Brittany cringed.

"You hate me?" asked Brittany carefully hoping for a no, not being really sure of what Santana was saying about their friendship. But all she got in return was Santana transferring dry clothes into her basket without saying a word. The way her jaws tightened, though, scared Brittany enough to make her bring her basket to her front, like a shield. Brittany watched (and shrieked a little bit) as Santana snatched it away to use it to collect the rest of their clothes. Then she watched some more as the latter girl, obviously not interested in talking, wordlessly stomped out of the basement with one batch of their finished laundry, leaving her with the other basket with dry clothes and the most unpleasant feeling ever.

Santana was already gone from the house when Brittany got out from the basement. Her laundry basket was set on the bed with everything still in it, and looking at the closet door that was left ajar, Brittany knew Santana just couldn't wait to get out of the house.

At dinner, however, Santana volunteered to pour water into Brittany's glass before she did it for herself. Then she proceeded to link their pinkies under the table to let Brittany know that the answer for her question earlier was a 'no'. Brittany was so overwhelmed with relief that, for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

A second later, seeing that Brittany's eyes were glassy, Emma asked her if there was something wrong. "There's just something in my eyes," Brittany told her as she wiped her eyes.

oOoOo

_"She's leaving," Santana sighed with her back against the tree. Her first visit in a couple of months. She blamed it on school that had been keeping her busy, but really, deep down inside she knew it was Brittany that kept her from going back to her previous state of being the Unabomber's child prodigy. And she was thankful for it._

_"I always knew she would — parents love her type. I mean, look at her. Beautiful, blonde, blue eyes… Always smiling, always happy. Totally, exactly, completely the opposite of me."_

_Santana picked up a brown leaf from the ground and traced the edges with her fingers. All dry and rough._

_"They all leave you too, huh?" Santana looked up to her linden's branches and gave the tree a pat. "See? Told you we got a lot in common."_

_"You know, it's been years since it happened, you'd think I would be okay about not having anything. You'd think I wouldn't be jealous anymore," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and regretted her decision of not wearing a headband on that windy day. "I thought so too. And I really thought I was making progress."_

_The park was quiet. Now that it was colder, there weren't many children around. The normally packed playground almost looked like it was deserted. Only 2 boys were still hanging from the monkey bars, and even they were going home in a matter of minutes; their mothers giving each other a hug near the swings._

_When the two little boys jumped off the bars and ran to their respective mothers, Santana felt the corners of her mouth go up. She tolerated these kinds of things better when there weren't a million kids running around. But when she saw one of the boys stretched his hand and reached to hold his mother's, Santana finally turned her gaze another way._

_She dropped the leaf that she was holding and looked at her hand. It was empty and alone. No other hand around it. No fingers wrapping it with love, pulling it gently, telling her that it was time to go home._

_It hurt._

_"I want to be happy for her, I really do. I just… that noise in my head… I can't make it stop. And why should I be the only one hearing it? It's not fair," Santana huffed._

_A pause. A strong wind. A leaf from a neighboring tree blown onto her face._

_She laughed, but she let that leaf stay in its spot. "You know what? Maybe it wouldn't be that great for her. Like, maybe Doug and his wife collect dead birds or something. And they'd have a pet pig that shits all over the living room. Then they'd deem his house unfit for a child, then she'd have to come back."_

_She laughed at the silliness of the scene she was in. The leaf covering her eyes, the fact that she was again venting to a tree, Brittany getting adopted, her not being happy about Brittany getting adopted…_

_But most of all, she laughed at the silly tears running down her face._

_"I just want someone to not leave me for once," she removed the obnoxious leaf that was keeping her from wiping her wet eyes with the back of her hands._

oOoOo

Santana had been going to her linden in the park more and more and Brittany knew she was partly responsible for it. So Brittany had been spending a lot of her time sitting on the porch watching the leaves fall, waiting for Santana to come back, because, aside from worrying about their friendship, it was all she could do.

Yes, she  _could_  help Emma with the house, but Emma already carefully, politely, lovingly banned her from helping out ever since Brittany wiped the coffee table with the wrong cloth. She could help Will out tidying up his office, but she made a mistake once and reordered the stacks of paper on his desk based on his students' handwritings (Brittany, of course, appreciated the ones with hearts over their i's more than the ones that looked like tall, untrimmed grass, and made a neat pile out of all of them). "It's the Pretty Pile," she told Will, and the man only responded with a deep sigh.

But being there on the porch to greet Santana with a smile seemed more important than anything. She didn't even budge when Puck started teasing her, saying that she was such an old woman, sitting out in the porch. It didn't matter.

She did, however, give him a little kiss on the cheek when he came back bringing her a blanket. "Don't worry so much, Britt," he gave her head a pat before walking back into the house. "She'll be okay."

Brittany smiled at him, hoping so much that it was true. It had been a couple of weeks already since their argument in the basement, and even though Santana had told her, indirectly _and_ directly, that she didn't hate her, Brittany still couldn't shake away the unpleasant feeling resting in the bottom of her stomach.

Not long after Puck had gone back inside, Brittany felt a sudden urge to look towards the end of the street and she was glad she surrendered to that urge. Santana was there, walking, if not dragging her feet, towards the house with both her hands in her pockets.

The thing about Santana was that no matter how hard she restrained herself from saying too many words, her body language still showed what she was feeling. Always very subtle — a micro smile, slumping her shoulders down a few degrees — and most people would've missed them, but she was completely readable for Brittany. From what she was seeing from that porch Santana could use a hug or two, and she would gladly give her a million if only she hadn't promised Santana to never poke her bubble unless she was asked to.

"Hey," Santana lazily waved her left hand as she walked up the steps. Her right was still tucked safely in her pocket.

"Hi," Brittany greeted back. "How was the park?"

"Was okay," said Santana. "What are you doing out in the porch?"

"You keep asking that question every time. I'm waiting for you, silly," Brittany told her friend honestly. "Are you cold?" she asked. She noticed the way Santana's knees were shaking after a hard wind blew their way. She knew Santana only had one layer of clothing underneath her jacket — it was Santana's thing, to never wear too many things and be bulky.

"I don't mind getting warmer. Scoot over," the darker girl pointed to the bench that Brittany was sitting on and Brittany did what she was told.

Brittany opened her arm; effectively stretching the blanket that Puck had given her. "Told you a layer's never enough," she said pointedly. Santana jokingly glared at her before she accepted Brittany's invitation to share the warmth.

They sat there in silence for a while, watching the sky turn darker, enjoying the quiet. A pick-up truck drove past their street and they watched it turn into a driveway. A neighbor coming home from walking their dog waved at them and Brittany waved back while Santana gave them a simple smile before closing her eyes, letting the wind gently sweep her face. To think that just months before, she wouldn't have given that neighbor the time of day. Probably would even flip them the bird when they weren't looking.

It was unfair for Santana that people only seemed to notice how she had helped Brittany with her schoolwork, but never mentioned at how much Brittany had helped her. Okay, maybe a handful of people noticed it. She was sure that at least Emma, Will and Puck noticed the difference between the old Santana and this Santana. Mercedes, the girl at school, too. She came up to Santana one day and made a comment about how she had grown… calmer? And happier, almost. Yeah, that was what she told her.

Everybody else had the perceived notion that Brittany was the one needing help. Every time a teacher commended her for doing a great job with tutoring Brittany (because apparently, none of them thought it was worth the effort in the first place), all she wanted to do was to stomp on their foot, just like what she did to  JBI. But she never did, because those idiots didn't know that she owed Brittany an obscene amount of gratitude. Brittany stuck by her, even though she was repeatedly shoved away, and practically dragged her out from a dark, dark corner.

So she had been rethinking about the whole situation. Being alone in the park, surrounded by fallen leaves and silence really helped clear her mind. The first time she came back to her linden, Santana spent more than just a few minutes crying over the fact that a) Brittany was leaving her, and b) nobody wanted her. It was as if she was thrown back to the state that she was in right after Antonio committed suicide. It was never a good feeling, feeling rejected.

But that same afternoon, when she was looking for excuses to hate Brittany, she couldn't find any. Like she had said before, nobody in the world could ever hate the blonde girl. She was just too faultless. Precious, in a way, like some rare thing that was impossible to find even if you went to the edges of the world.

That night at the dinner table, when she saw the relief on Brittany's face and the tears pooling in her eyes as she poured her a glass of water, Santana had felt really bad about the fight and immediately made a promise to herself to work out her feelings. And yes, that might've caused her to go visit her tree more often (just like today), but it was definitely better than lashing out to Brittany.

Puck popped his head around the door to tell them that dinner was going to be thirty minutes late because they were waiting for a guest and both girls tensed.

"I didn't realize it was today," mumbled Brittany. She brought her hand to her mouth to start chewing on her fingernails, but Santana caught it halfway. She stood up and pulled Brittany with her.

"Come on," Santana said. "Let's get changed. I'll even braid your hair if you want."

"Santana…"

"Come on, Britt," she repeated. "Don't you want to look nice in front of mister daddy-to-be?"

"I thought you didn't like Doug…"

"I didn't. I still don't," Santana admitted. "But you're my best friend and I'm happy for you. I'm not going to ruin this for you. How many times do I need to tell you that?"

"I know, but… you know, I really don't want to leave," Brittany said quietly, keeping her eyes on the street in front of them. "Can't they adopt me but let me live here?"

Santana turned her head and chuckled. "I don't think so, Brittany."

"I just… I don't wanna leave you behind."

"We'll still see each other at school, won't we?"

"Well yeah," Brittany nodded. "But it won't be the same. We won't be roommates anymore. We won't even be housemates."

"Brittany," Santana sighed and looked straight into Brittany's blue eyes. "We still got, what? A month before you move out? Probably less, depending on the paperwork. Let's not think about the bad things. Let's just be… I don't know… Happy? How 'bout that?"

Brittany bit her lip and looked at their joined hands. She felt a squeeze that prompted her to look back at the girl standing in front of her.

"Okay," she squeezed back and Santana smiled at her before she pulled her into the house.

oOoOo

"So there we were, Nancy and I, sitting at the wrong church, cheering for the wrong wedding, all because she misread the invitation," Doug laughed loudly. Maniacally. "Can you believe that?"

"That's hilarious," Will politely laughed along, taking a glance at the smiling (more like grimacing, really), but obviously uncomfortable woman sitting next to Doug.

"I'm tellin' ya," the burly man wiped his mouth with the napkin. "My wife's just," he moved his hand over the top of his head and made a whooshing noise before he continued laughing.

Santana didn't like his gesture and the way he made the blonde woman next to him shift in her seat, and she wasn't the only one. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Puck's jaw tightened even though he tried to mask it by pretending to be cutting his steak.

"Maybe you should start reading things for yourself then," Santana mumbled into her glass of water and that earned her a soft kick to the shin from someone's foot. She thought it was Brittany's at first, but then she noticed Emma's pursed lips across the table.

"Hm? What's that?" Doug asked as he chewed.

Santana smiled her sweetest smile and it actually made her sick to her stomach. "Nothing," she said. "I said, 'glad you haven't handed them your wedding presents'."

Doug went back to his roaring laughter and swung his arm back, landing it on his wife's shoulder. Nancy flinched, but it was so subtle that the smile on her face hid her reaction well.

"That's me, alright," Nancy said, cautiously patting the hand resting on her shoulder with a half smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Somehow I always manage to do everything wrong."

"You're just like me, then," Brittany suddenly said. "I do everything wrong too. But I'm lucky because Santana's awesome and she tells me every time I mess up."

"Oh?" Nancy tilted her head.

Santana smiled shyly and shook her head. "It's nothing."

"No, what do you mean it's nothing," Brittany touched Santana's arm to stop her from talking. "She even helped me with my grades," she told the table. "I've been making big improvements. I get Bs now instead of Ds."

"It's true," Emma excitedly jumped in. Her doe eyes twinkled in the light that Santana internally cringed at them. Emma was practically a character out of a storybook.

"Santana is a good tutor," Emma continued, smiling ear to ear at everyone at the table. "We're very proud of them both. And Noah too, of course."

"Wow," Nancy smiled at the girls. "That is wonderful. You're lucky to have her."

Brittany beamed. "Santana's my best friend," she said proudly. Then, after mulling over the thought in her head, she added a question. In her mind it was really worth the shot. "Can't you take both of us? Like, adopt us at the same time?"

Santana's eyes widened at Brittany's question. She really wasn't expecting that.

"Brittany," Will said to the teenager gently, but pointedly.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Honey, I don't think that's how it works," Emma gently told her. "It's not that easy," she looked at the guests apologetically.

"But," Brittany looked to her right, where Santana was sitting, and scrunched her eyebrows. "But why?"

"It's a long process, Brittany," Doug answered. "I know it seems simple — that all we have to do is sign papers — but the truth is, it's far more complicated than that. We even had to pull some strings for this to happen."

"Well… you did it for me. Why can’t you do it for her?”

Santana looked down to her plate and brushed a strand of hair to the back of her ears. A part of her was disgusted at the idea of living in the same house as Doug Geoffrey. The man was still number one in her list of ‘So Wrong, Just Wrong’ people even though she still didn't have a solid excuse.

The other part, however, really hoped that he would actually say yes. That he would submit another application of adoption for her. That she would get to call _sometwo_ her parents, and that she would share them with Brittany.

But the universe didn't work that way.

The adults around the table shared glances with one another and Santana knew what she had always known before. Who was she kidding? Nobody wanted her. It hurt, but it was the truth. For once Brittany's Pouting Powers were unsuccessful. The Geoffreys weren't going to whisk her away from the Schuesters' residence. Not when they already got a perfect daughter-to-be.

So silence dominated the room for a few moments. Nobody at the table answered Brittany's question — none of them really knew how to do it — and Santana knew it was her time to jump in."No, Britt," she said. "Let's be real. You don't want to share parents with me. I'd just hog them," she told Brittany with a smile and a hand on her shoulder.

Brittany thought Santana's answer was ridiculous. They had been sharing almost everything since she first joined the household. Sure, Santana gave her a hard time during the first few weeks, but those weeks were pale in comparison to countless days and occasions when Santana practically dropped everything that she was doing for Brittany. Or at least changed the way things worked so that they could accommodate her.

Brittany was about to reopen her mouth to say something and object when she saw the look in Santana's eyes. It said _'please drop this, Britt,_ ' and she complied. She reached over for the gravy boat and offered it to Doug who seemed to be the one enjoying his dinner the most.

"More gravy?" Brittany asked, pointing to the dry parts of his steak, and just like that, the atmosphere in the dining room turned back to normal.

oOoOo

The night ended with the Schuester household waving goodbye to the couple leaving their street in a fancy white convertible. Santana thought it couldn't get any tackier, but she put on a smile on her face and waved anyway.

_All for Brittany,_ she thought, and she wouldn't have done it for anybody else.

Brittany volunteered to clean up. Emma had worked all afternoon for the dinner that was intended for her, so that was the least she could do. Emma politely refused at first, saying that she didn't want to tire them out, but somehow Will managed to convince Emma to let the kids take care of the mess that was the dining room. It took her a lot of cringing and many nervous 'are you sure's but she ended up going upstairs to their room anyway. But she squeezed in a plea to Santana to not hesitate to knock on the door if they needed anything. Santana only gave her little nods, but that was enough for Emma. Their relationship had grown significantly better for Emma to trust Santana, and vice versa.

Brittany, knowing that Emma was very particular about her fancy table cloths and linens, went to take them to the laundry room and made sure she put the right amount of detergent (she made sure she read Emma's laminated instructions that was taped to the wall next to the washing machine). Besides, she knew she was better off handling fabric than fragile china. Santana would take care of them.

Santana cleared the table from the plates and gave them to Puck, because he decided that he was going to do the dishes. Funnily enough, he was really good at it. He also seemed to be enjoying the chore, whistling a tune or even humming the words to some classic rock tunes as he scrubbed and rinsed.

"So," Puck kickstarted the conversation from the sink. The running water and the fact that Santana was still roaming the other room, made him speak louder. "What do you think?"

"I still don't like him," Santana replied; walking into the kitchen with a glass she had found lying around on a table in the foyer. She was sure it was Doug's, because except for him and his wife (and Nancy was pretty much off the hook since she seemed to have better manners than her husband), nobody would've ever brought a glass of red wine out there. Not to mention without a coaster. That would cost Emma three good night slumbers thinking about the madness.

Santana was met with a pair of eyes looking strangely at her and she rolled her eyes. "What? I don't. Seriously, I can't be the only one here who saw how weird their interaction was. You saw it, right? Or heard it or whatever since you couldn't get your mug away from your plate. You ate like a caveman. Which makes perfect sense considering how you look."

"Yeah, I saw it," Puck glared at Santana, not happy about how she was mocking him. In his defense, it was the best steak he had ever had in a really long time.

"And?" she pressed. She took out zipper bags from the drawer and started to pack the leftovers. When she didn't hear Puck say anything, she pressed again. "Come on. Be honest. I saw your reactions tonight. You looked like you were ready to bite his head o—"

"Okay, fine! I think he could've treated his wife better," he cut her off. "But maybe that's just how it is with him?"

"That doesn't make it any better, dumbass," she hissed. She heard the sound of a door being shut and lowered her voice. "Puck, Nancy flinched. She freakin' flinched when he put his hand on her shoulder. That's not normal. I'm telling you, he's bad news!"

"Well what are you gonna do about it, Santana?" Puck asked exasperatedly, voice as low as his speaking opponent. "You wanna tell Brittany to not be a Geoffrey based on some ridiculous notion? You can't do that, it'll crush her."

"I know," Santana huffed.

"Maybe," Puck said to her carefully. "Maybe you're just jealous?"

"No, I'm—"

"Hey, what are you guys whispering about?" a chirpy Brittany came into the kitchen and Santana stopped mid sentence. Brittany really didn't need to hear what she thought about her daddy-to-be.

"Nothing, Britt," she smiled and turned around to face the girl. "Just about how awesome dinner was."

Brittany beamed. "Wasn't it? So glad it went well. I really like them," Brittany told the other two teenagers and both of them looked at each other.

"Nancy seems nice," Santana offered, neglecting her opinions on Doug altogether.

Nancy really did seem nice. The lady seemed genuine. While Doug only seemed to be interested in his food and his future daughter, Nancy clicked with Emma over recipes, and with Will over his job as a teacher (she was, after all, the wife of the school board's member). She was engaged in a conversation about the football team with Puck. She didn't know much, but the effort was more than enough to score a good impression.

"She does," Brittany agreed. "Second round of dessert?" she took out a pint of ice cream from the freezer and walked over to the cupboard to get three bowls when she got nods from both Puck and Santana.

"Here," Puck handed Brittany the big spoon and watched as she put a second scoop on one bowl. She gave it to Santana and he looked at her in protest.

"How come she gets extra?"

"Shut it, _Noah_. It's because I'm awesome," Santana grinned.

"She braided my hair! This is my thanks," Brittany told him and he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

Brittany chuckled. "But you brought me a blanket this afternoon so you also get extra."

"Awesome," Puck grinned. He brought his hand up and Brittany gave him a high five.

oOoOo

"I heard you, you know."

"Hmm?"

"When you said he's bad news," Brittany said from her bed and Santana's eyes shot open. She was about to fall asleep but Brittany's words yanked her back out into consciousness.

"Britt, I—"

"It's okay. I know you mean well," Brittany turned sideways. "I want this, Santana. I do. So, so much."

"I know," Santana turned her head to face her roommate. "I know you do, Britt."

"But if you think I should talk to Maria about it, I will. I don't see what's wrong with Doug, but you do. And I trust you, Santana. You always look out for me."

Santana took a deep breath. She peeled off the covers and did the same with Brittany's after moving King Henry down to the floor. The cat wasn't happy about it but he was too sleepy to carry on with being annoyed. He hopped onto Santana's bed and continued his slumber.

"Come on," Santana tiptoed to the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Just… come on."

The girls tiptoed down the stairs and Brittany was reminded of the day they smuggled King Henry into the house.

"Santana," she whispered. "Where are we going?"

Santana reached into a vase set on the coffee table and took out a set of keys. "Just follow me," she said as she grabbed Brittany's wrist and led her to a door.

"Uh," Brittany nervously tugged on Santana's t-shirt. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Relax," Santana turned the key. "They'll never know. It's not gonna take long. I've done this before and I've never been caught."

Brittany gasped. "You've broken into Will's office before? When?"

"Almost every night."

"What?"

"Ssh, Britt! Not so loud!" Santana put a hand over Brittany's mouth. "Look, the fact that you, my roommate, didn't even know that I've been going here every night means nobody does. Now come on. I promise it'll only take like… 5 minutes. Ten tops."

Brittany nodded and followed Santana to the piano. "You're gonna play?"

"Yep, sure am," Santana opened the lid.

"But won't Will and Emma hear you?"

Santana sat on the chair and patted the spot next to her so that Brittany would sit too.

"Like I said. I've done this a million times. See those?" she pointed at the surrounding walls. "There's a reason why they're padded."

"They're sound proof?" asked Brittany.

"You know it," Santana smirked and Brittany felt proud for figuring it out herself.

"Anyway," Santana continued. "I didn't know I was missing playing the piano that much until the day Will showed us this room. So I've been playing when everybody's asleep."

Brittany nodded understandingly and watched as Santana's fingers started dancing on the keys, gliding through a constellation of beautiful notes.

"That was awesome," Brittany said when Santana was done warming up. She didn't mean to whisper, but she felt like she needed to. It was as if she would ruin the lingering hum in the room if she had talked louder.

"I kind of owe it to my parents. They loved music. And I know a lot of oldies thanks to my dad — we used to sing together a lot. Anyway… this is for you," she told Brittany. "Bear with me," she stuck her tongue out and apologized with her scrunched face. "I might mess this up."

Again Santana's fingers danced on the piano. This time, though, not as freely. She made a rhythm with a few of the keys on the left side, and played a melody with her right.

Brittany brushed hair strands to the back of her ears. She wanted to hear— no. She wanted to listen.

_"You and I must make a pact,"_ Santana softly sang after clearing her throat a couple of times. _"We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I'll be there."_

"I think I know this song," Brittany whispered to Santana.

Of course she did, it was a really popular song. Even though she didn't know the words, she knew the melody well enough to know that Santana was playing all the notes right. Not to mention singing the song beautifully.

Santana replied with just a smile, not wanting to break her focus.  _"I'll reach out my hand to you,"_ she continued. And she sang,  _"I'll have faith in all you do,"_ looking at her friend, to let her know that she was serious. She believed in Brittany and she would be there if she called her name.

_"If you should ever find someone new,"_ Santana continued singing. _"I hope he better be good to you. And if he doesn't, I'll be there."_

Not that she was doubting the words in the song at all (because she knew Santana had meant every single one), but at this point, Brittany was more entranced with how good Santana's voice was. She couldn't believe her ears. She had heard Santana humming along to the songs on the radio, her iPod and even to the theme songs of whatever TV show it was they were watching, but this was the first time Santana had ever sung something with the intent of letting another person hearing it and it was magical.

It was magical and wonderful and even though Brittany had never felt anything like it, she was pretty sure this was what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach. Only she was feeling them in her chest and she had to remind herself to breathe when Santana was done with the song.

"Britt, I need to be honest with something. I've been giving it a thought… and I'm not sure if disliking Doug is actually me looking out for you or just me being jealous," said Santana, hands fidgeting so bad that she had to hold one with the other. "But I do know that I want you to be happy. And that should be the only thing that matters. This is your life, Brittany, not mine. And I shouldn't be the reason why you can't have the things you want, especially when all I got is some lousy suspicion about a man."

Brittany pursed her lips. "But what if I want a lot of things at the same time? On one hand, I really, really want to get adopted, but… I don't want to be away from you too."

"No, look," Santana closed the piano lid and rested her right elbow on it. "Let's be real here. The chance of getting adopted when we're this age is so little. I mean, look at Puck and I. Nobody's lining up to adopt us because we're not little kids anymore... well, that, and the fact that we're both assholes. You're lucky you're perfect and the Geoffreys love you. But there's no guarantee you'll get the chance again."

"But," Brittany bit her lip. "What if you forget about me?"

"Oh my God, no way," Santana waved her hand dismissing Brittany's question. "We're best friends, and I love you. You'll always have me. I'll always be here, no matter what. You can't lose me," Santana told her soon-to-be ex-roommate. "But you promise me," she held up a pinky. "You run back to me if anything bad happens. Anything, you hear me, Britt?"

Brittany ignored the pinky. Instead, she lunged at Santana and hugged her like it was the last hug they were ever going to share. Santana, startled with the surprise attack, brought her hands to Brittany's back and returned the tight hold.

"You should join a choir or something," said Brittany after a few minutes, voice muffled by Santana's shoulder, and the second girl chuckled at the impossibility of it ever happening.

 

 


	13. Distances

The one time Santana made Will drive to the Geoffreys' residence, Doug didn't seem too pleased to see the girl there. He acted friendly enough, but even Will could tell that the burly man couldn't wait for them to go away.

Santana paid no mind to it; she was instantly dragged away by Brittany who was eager to give her a tour of her new residence. She was too busy catching up with Brittany, but Santana still got the low down on what went down while she was busy admiring Brittany's very large room. According to the dinner table tales from Will that night, Doug, weirdly, kept bringing up how far of a drive it was back to their home. Emma suggested that maybe he was just concerned and had meant well with his comments.

"Maybe," Will said to the table. "But he didn't have to make jokes about how it would be a 'doozy'," he made air quotes with his hands, "if my car broke down on our way home. I know it's old but it's what we got."

Santana, who hadn't been paying attention to Will's story looked up from her plate and scrunched her eyebrows. "Who are we talking about?"

"Doug," Puck answered. Now that Brittany was no longer a part of their dinner rituals, her chair, next to Santana's, was his. Santana internally protested at first because, let's be real, Emma had no right to give away Brittany's chair to Puck. But as the night went on, Santana figured it was better to have him there than just an empty seat, which she had no doubt would've made her miss Brittany more.

"He made fun of Stella?" Santana asked the table. Sure, the gray family wagon was no red convertible — and it wasn't like Santana had a strong attachment to the car, nor its silly name — but that was uncalled for. "When was this?" she tilted her head, this time looking directly at Will.

Will didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he looked at her like she had grown 7 extra heads on her shoulder, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly hung open. Quite frankly, he was surprised that Santana knew the name of his precious car. He didn't think she would've paid any attention when he was telling the girls about Stella's history. It wasn't until Emma gave him a soft nudge with her elbow that he finally answered Santana's question.

"You weren't there. You were in Britt's room," he told her.

"And you let him talk to you that way? Is it because he practically runs the schools and you're, like, his slave or something?"

"Santana," Puck warned her.

"What?" Santana challenged the boy sitting next to her. "It's a legit question. I don't know about you but I don't think Doug should talk to anybody like that. Just because he's rich doesn't mean he can look down on people."

Puck scoffed. "And what makes you think you can talk to people like that?"

"Hey, hey," Will raised his voice. He had to do something before the argument got out of hand. Now that Brittany wasn't around anymore, there was no buffer between the other two kids living under his roof.

He spoke again. "You're right, Santana. I shouldn't have let him talk me down like that. Truth is, I was ready to cut through his nonsense. But I didn't. You know why?"

Santana scoffed. "Because you're a coward?"

From the corner of her eyes Santana could see Puck's jaw tightening and she regretted her stupid mouth. She had to admit, the possibility of Puck punching her in the face really scared her. But Emma's hand quickly landed on the boy's arm and the gesture successfully lowered everybody's heart rates.

"No," Will answered with a forced smile. It seemed ridiculous that a teenager's words could still hurt a grown man's feelings, but he couldn't help the pang he felt with Santana's jab. He continued after clearing his throat. "Well, yes, he has a big influence regarding my career, but that's not why I didn't say anything. We were at his house, Santana. What do you think would've happened if I had given him a piece of my mind?"

Santana stayed quiet for a moment. Then she mumbled, "he would've kicked us out."

"Exactly. Would you have liked it?"

Santana shook her head slowly. "No," she mumbled again.

oOoOo

"You wanna hang out this afternoon? We can get ice cream or something. We can call Nancy and ask her to pick you up?"

"I can't, Santana, I'm sorry. I have dance lessons."

Santana furrowed her brows. "Since when do you take dance lessons?"

"This is my first day," Brittany held her folder tighter against her chest. It was a really hard thing to do, talking and walking in a crowded lunch hall while trying to score an empty table. "Around last month, during dinner, they were asking me questions about what I like to do and stuff."

"Okay, and?"

"And I wasn't really sure about anything, so I told them I like to dance," Brittany shrugged. Her eyes spotted Mercedes waving to them from a table right in the middle of the room and she gave her friend a smile. "Anyway, Doug thought it'd be great if I could, you know, learn properly."

"So he put you in a dance class," Santana nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It honestly slipped my mind. I was going to tell you when you were at the house, but Will took you home before I could. Hey!" Brittany beamed. "You should totally join my dance class! It'll be fun!"

Santana gave Brittany a bitter smile. "Yeaaah," she drawled out her words. "I don't think we can afford that, Britt."

"Oh," Brittany looked down, instantly regretting her stupid brain and her stupid mouth for not thinking before she spoke. "We can hang out tomor— no, wait… I can't," Brittany pouted. "Ugh, I'm sorry. We're going to a tailor tomorrow and have me fitted for a dress for something. I can't remember."

"What about this weekend?"

Brittany cringed as an answer and Santana took a deep breath.  _Who are you kidding, Santana? Brittany's not yours anymore._

"Santana?" Brittany turned around to face her friend and they got sneered by the people walking behind them for stopping the crawling line. A crowd of hungry students could be scary sometimes. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you next week, I promise. Doug already planned something for us this weekend. I couldn't say no."

Whatever words there were on the back of her throat, Santana fought hard to not let them get out. Brittany seemed to sense the turmoil and felt really guilty about it. "I'm sorry," Brittany whispered, looking down at her shoes. "I just want them to like me, that's all."

"No, look, it's fine," it was Santana's turn to feel guilty. She knew Brittany must be torn inside. She wouldn't have wanted to disappoint her on purpose. "Go have fun. I'll still be here when you come back. We can totally do something next week."

Brittany dropped her folder to the floor and surprised Santana with a bear hug.

"Britt, what the hell?" Santana chuckled. She was shocked but amused at the same time. "People are staring, Britt."

Brittany let go of Santana with a huge grin on her face. "You're the best, you know that?"

Once they were seated with Mercedes at the same table (she had to swat some students who were trying to occupy Brittany and Santana's chairs), the girls fell into a routine of updating each other about their days. Now that they weren't living in the same house anymore, Santana's interaction with Brittany was severely limited with the number of hours that they spent at school.

Will promised that they could see each other whenever they wanted, but since Brittany was living on the other side of the town, it was harder for them to visit one another. Other than that, Will was starting to feel resentment towards Doug ever since he treated him like a second-class citizen.

Santana didn't want to admit it, but maybe she cared about Will's feelings more than she had thought. Ever since that dinner, she had been finding ways to hang out with Brittany without involving Will or Emma. There had been a few Saturdays when Doug would drive Brittany to their house, but the visit never lasted long enough. That burly man always had an excuse for them to leave early.

Sometimes Santana would talk Brittany into calling Nancy and asking her to pick her up later. Some days Nancy would politely invite her to come over, some other days Santana would save her lunch money to pay for bus rides to and from Brittany's new house on the weekends. There had been many occasions when Doug would sneer at her and crack a joke (or two or ten) about how Santana seemed to be always there, but she, begrudgingly, shrugged it off. She had learned to let it go. But to subject Will to further humiliation from the big man with his ridiculous bolo tie? No, thank you.

"Look at Jacob's hair!" Brittany told the lunch table and Santana, Mercedes, and a boy who just happened to be sitting with them whipped their head to see what Brittany was talking about.

"It's like a Jewish cloud," the blonde said again without taking her eyes off of the subject matter.

Mercedes snorted at the sight and Santana just shook her head at the ridiculousness that she was seeing. Jacob's hair was unbelievable. It was never good (or at least decent) to look at, but she had never realized the actual phenomenon that it was. With her eyes, she followed the boy until he was lost in the crowd of hungry students.

"What the hell happened to him?" Santana asked the table.

"I heard he likes to stick his fingers to sockets and got electrocuted. That's why his hair's all messed up," the boy sitting on the edge of the table chimed in. "If you ask me, it doesn't look any worse than before. God knows he needs some conditioning."

Mercedes stared at him, confused, before she exchanged glances with the other girls who just shrugged at her. "And you are?" she asked the boy, taking mental notes at how… unusual… his outfit was. It was like a costume… only weirder.

The boy put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin before stretching his hand to Mercedes. "I'm Kurt," he smiled. "Kurt Hummel."

Mercedes shook his hand slowly, still not sure what to make of the boy. But she got over it and put on her best smile. "Hi, Kurt. I'm Mercedes, and this is Brittany," she pointed to the blonde girl sitting next to her and proceeded to point at the darker girl sitting across Brittany, "and that's Santana."

"Hi, Brittany, Santana," Kurt gave them a simple wave.

"Why haven't we seen you around before?" Santana asked. She was getting good at it — talking to people. Mostly because she didn't want Brittany to think that she was going back to her Unabomber ways now that she couldn't be around her that much anymore.

"Oh, well, sometimes I just… you know… hang back," Kurt shrugged. "In the dumpster," he coughed.

Mercedes raised a hand. "Hold up. What do you mean, 'in the dumpster'?"

"I get teased," Kurt nodded as he spoke. "A lot. Some people like to throw me into those bins out in the parking lot."

"Well, yeah you're wearing a cape," Santana mumbled under her breath. Brittany heard it though, and she gave her a little pinch on her arm. "Ouch, Brittany!"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Brittany smiled. "I like your cape," she told him with a serious face and Kurt smiled like it was his birthday.

The four of them talked quite a bit before the bell rang. By the time lunch was over, Santana, Brittany and Mercedes had learned that Kurt's mom passed away when he was little and it resonated with the first two girls. Mercedes announced to all three of her friends that they could come over anytime if they ever wanted to eat her mom's awesome homemade tater tots, or just to get hugs because, "my mom gives the best hugs."

But Santana, even though she didn't say it out loud, knew Mercedes was wrong.

Brittany gave the best hugs.

oOoOo

Santana woke up that Saturday morning alone in the house. Lord Tubbington was nowhere to be found — Santana figured he went out looking for Brittany, but she had no doubt the cat would be back. He couldn't, for the life of him, stay out that long without food. So she wasn't worried.

Puck, as always, had a neighborhood football game to go to and the Schuesters had gone to cheer him on. They had asked her over and over throughout the week if she wanted to join them, and she had considered to really go this time, but her final answer became a 'no' when she realized that she was going to have the house all to herself. She had the decency, though, to tell Puck to kick some ass and that, for some reason, had lit up Puck's face like a carnival. In his defense, it was the first time Santana had ever said anything about his games.

Emma left her a note on her bedroom door saying there were pancakes in the microwave for her breakfast, and Santana didn't delay heating them up the moment she got to the kitchen. After pouring a generous amount of syrup on her pancakes, she grabbed her plate and walked into the living room. She plopped herself down on the couch, rested her feet on the coffee table (without touching Emma’s neatly arranged magazines, of course) and enjoyed flipping the channels as she finished her breakfast one bite at a time.

11:28 AM, and on reflex her thumb pressed a button on the remote and changed the channel to PBS. She was confused for a moment and changed the channel again into something else. But every 20 seconds or so she would change it back to PBS and baffle herself all over again. It wasn’t until someone on TV started screaming,  _"heeeyy youuu guyyyss!"_ that Santana knew what it was that made her want to watch PBS.

Lord Tubbington came out of nowhere and stood next to the coffee table. He looked at the TV, then at Santana sitting on the couch, and Santana got it. She just got it.

"Hey, Tubbs," she picked up the cat. "You miss her too, don't you?"

The cat blinked and looked around the room as if he was waiting for another person to sit on the couch. But nobody was coming, so he plopped onto Santana's lap.

Santana smiled at the cat. "Wanna watch Electric Company with me?" She petted the cat and it purred. She took it as a yes.

Episodes rolled by and Santana found herself freefalling out of an airplane, landing her butt on the living room floor. She hurriedly stood up, checking to see if anybody saw her fall off the couch, readying herself with witty comebacks in case Puck was going to make fun of her. But nobody was there and she didn't hear anybody making a sound.  _There_ is _a God_ , she thought in relief.

Santana waited until her mind was fully there and the sleep was fully gone before she thought about the next thing she was going to do to kill time. She thought about making lunch, but she was still full from the stack of pancakes that she had earlier. She mulled over a few things to do like walking in the park, getting ice cream and window shopping, but she was simply too lazy to go out.

She hated moments like this. She was alone and it was quiet and dangerous. But not the kind of danger that most people were afraid of — oh no, she wasn't thinking about robbers and thieves. She was thinking about how easy it was for her to fall back into the old Santana, the one who would let bad things take over her mind. The one who would read an old piece of a newspaper over and over again and wouldn't let go of the past.

She leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes before slapping herself on the forehead.

She got up and walked over to a familiar vase that was sitting on a table unsuspectingly. She reached inside for a certain set of keys and when she got them, she dangled them in front of her face and smiled in victory.

Once she was in the room, she didn't wait any longer to sit on the piano bench. She carefully opened the lid and warmed up her fingers by playing random keys. Then she played her version of Frere Jacques (or Are You Sleeping or whatever) just to have something to hum along to.

It was ridiculous, she chuckled to herself, that all the songs she knew were either nursery rhymes or old songs that were remnants of her happy days with the Salguero clan. And none of those she learned from proper sheet music with notes and clefs — only by ear. Yeah, the piano lessons helped, but it was only a 2-hour session per week with the lady who lived a few houses down, who was just looking for extra cash. The lady would just sit on the piano, play the same song 2-3 times, and then she'd just watch little Santana trying to read the notes and figure out on her own which keys to press.

Santana was really lucky she was a fast learner. She bet that if she could only find Will's sheet music (Will must have them somewhere), she could learn to play more songs.

Santana looked around the room, wondering where Will would keep his music sheets. He couldn't keep them on his desk; there were too many papers on it already. The bookcase? It looked dusty and untouched. No way he'd keep his sheet music there.

Suddenly an imaginary light bulb lit up above her head and Santana stood up. She stepped away from the bench and opened the padded part.

 _Bingo,_  she smirked.

Santana took out the books she found in the bench and read the titles silently. She flipped, flipped, flipped through all the pages, looking for one that looked simple enough. Didn't matter if it was an old song or a new one. She decided to start with a song that she was familiar with, just to make sure she could match the notes in her head with the ones on the sheet.

"Songbird by Fleetwood Mac," she read a title. "I know this song."

oOoOo

Brittany's weekend started off fantastic. On Saturday, the family driver drove the Geoffreys to a shopping center somewhere outside Colombus. Doug waited in a coffee house while Nancy urged Brittany to spend a lot of money on everything she wanted. Of course, there were lots of things that Brittany wanted, she was a girl after all, but it still felt weird to be asking stuff from a… stranger.

So she refused. She refused, refused and refused some more until Nancy finally gave up and threatened the girl that if she didn't start picking some things, she would make sure they would come home with everything, whether she liked it or not.

Brittany knew it wasn't an empty threat and that the Geoffreys were literally that rich, so she hurriedly walked into a store and picked out some clothes. She didn't abuse the chance and only grabbed the ones she really,  _really_ liked, but of course Nancy ended up instructing the store manager to get everything she had chosen in every color available.

The poor (lucky?) blonde girl thought her legs were about to fall off when it was finally time for her and Nancy to meet Doug at the coffee house. She was thankful that she didn't have to carry all the shopping bags they had produced because apparently, it was part of the family driver's job description. He carried all those bags with such mastery, for a moment Brittany considered asking him if he was part octopus.

Nancy had to make a quick stop at the restroom and told Brittany to not move and wait for her to come back. Brittany said yes, of course, but she cheated a little bit. She saw a jewelry store about 10 feet away and headed there straight away to watch all the pretty rings and necklaces twinkle in the light.

She must've spent more than a couple of minutes gazing through the shop window because, before she knew it, Nancy was already dragging her into the store. They didn't spend too much time in that particular store, though. About 30 minutes after that, Brittany was buckled up safely in town car with a little pink bag tucked in her purse. Her new parents were pleased with the number of shopping bags stuffed in the trunk.

When she got up the next day, her feet were sore from their ridiculous shopping spree — but that didn't stop her from going to the kitchen. Brittany was used to helping Emma with their breakfast, or at least watching when the redhead prepared the food, so it was only natural for her to wake up early to help Nancy prepare an elaborate breakfast every weekend.

She didn't really understand why Nancy would cook so much food when there were only the three of them in the house. She knew why Emma would do it — because there were 5 people living together. But the amount of food that Nancy made could feed 10. Not to mention she always went out of her way to cook no less than 8 different dishes, and that was just on good days. On bad days, the ones when Nancy would arrive in the kitchen with super red and puffy eyes looking like she hadn't been getting any sleep, she'd cook up a storm and come up with probably 15 different dishes.

French toast, breakfast quiche with salmon, pancakes, waffles, chicken fried steak, sweet crepes, savory crepes, crab cakes with poached eggs. Anything you could find in a breakfast themed restaurant menu, you'd find it at their house.

Brittany asked Nancy about it, but all the woman did was smile a smile that really didn't reach her eyes and told the young girl that, "sometimes Doug gets confused what to eat. And he doesn't like it when he gets confused. So I'd just have everything ready for him."

It made sense.

At least, Brittany thought it did.

Like clockwork, at 8.20 AM, Doug came down from the bedroom in his fancy velvet robe. He picked up the Sunday newspaper from the foyer table and sat in his chair, waiting for all the food to be brought to the dining table. Nancy, like a real loving wife, would pour him his coffee, his water, his apple juice and freshly squeezed orange juice into the different glasses set in front of him.

He didn't say a word about it, but after spending weeks in her new house, Brittany knew it was an unspoken rule that during weekends everything and everyone had to be at the dining room when the clock pointed to 8.30 AM.

"How are you, Brittany?" Doug asked, his mouth chewing the fried steak that Nancy had whipped up that morning.

Brittany looked up with slight confusion in her blue eyes. "Um, fine? How are you?"

Doug roared with laughter. "You're such a sweet little thing. Isn't she sweet, Nance?"

Nancy smiled and nodded in agreement. She loved Brittany. Then again, who wouldn't?

"How's school and all? Are you having trouble? What's happening to your grades?"

"Well," Brittany took a big gulp of her milk. "Santana still helps me with my homework and tests. But since we're not living in the same house anymore, it's harder to find the time for her to tutor me."

"Hmm," Doug nodded. "Well, don't you worry about it anymore. We'll get you other tutors.."

Brittany scrunched her nose. "But… I have Santana."

"Now, now," Doug put down his fork and sipped his coffee. "Let's think about this for a minute, Brittany. I know your arrangement with Santana was convenient, but that was before.  _Before_ ," he emphasized on the word, "you were living under the same roof. It was easy for both of you girls. But now, you're living in my house and let's face it… logistically speaking, it will be hard for both of you to continue studying together."

"But…" Brittany bit her lip in worry. "But she's very smart and she's a good teacher. Like, she knows how to explain things to me. The other day I got an A in English — I've never gotten an A in anything in my life before."

Doug used a napkin to wipe his mouth and put it back on the table. "Brittany, I'm going to be very honest, and this may sound strange to you. The truth is, I'm not just doing it for you. I'm doing it for myself too. What would people say if they knew Doug Geoffrey's daughter wasn't getting the best grades because he didn't get her the best tutors out there? You see what I'm saying?"

_Daughter._

The word sounded so good in Brittany's ears, all the other words that came after it just didn't matter anymore. But she nodded anyway. She guessed she kind of understood where he was coming from.

"Think about Santana, Brittany," Doug continued. "Don't you think she deserves the break? I'm guessing she could use some time off to focus on her own education, isn't that so, sweetheart?" Doug asked his wife.

Brittany looked at Nancy and the older woman gave her an uneasy smile before nodding in agreement to what Doug just asked her.

"Santana doesn't mind," Brittany said in a low voice.

"That's what she told you?" Doug asked her and Brittany confirmed her answer with little nods.

"Well, that's very kind of her. I'm glad that you have such a good friend in Santana. But here's the thing, pumpkin… You know how she is. Do you really think she would tell you if she was bothered with you constantly needing her to help with your studies? Are you really sure that she doesn't mind?"

At this point Brittany couldn't help the tears in her eyes from falling. The thought of being a burden to Santana really bothered her, and the thought of Santana not telling her if she was being a burden bothered her even more. Santana had always been private when it came to her feelings. Even up until now, she still didn't know what was written in Santana's special newspaper clipping. It was more than possible that she wasn't telling Brittany the truth when she said she didn't mind.

"Please don't cry, honey," Nancy chimed in. She glanced at Doug to get a sign of approval to talk further and when he gave her a nod, she continued to speak. "You'll still see Santana at school. She'll still be your friend. We just think that, now that you're going to spend most of your time away from each other, it's good for you to distance yourselves. There is nothing wrong about trying to be more independent. I'm sure she would want to, but she can't be there all the time for you. We're a family now, sweetheart. You're our daughter now and we want you to have only the best things in life, alright?"

oOoOo

Santana couldn't wait to see Brittany that Monday morning. She couldn't wait to tell her all about the songs that she learned over the course of the weekend. If they were lucky, and if she had read the schedule right, the band room was going to be unoccupied that day. It was her chance to play Brittany her new songs. Even more, she was considering getting Mercedes to sing for her. Or  _with_ her or whatever. That girl had some serious chops. The other day Brittany forced Mercedes to sing after she told them she joined her mom's church choir and Santana felt so… inferior.

Of course Brittany still told her that she loved Santana's voice more, but Santana couldn't deny the fact that Mercedes was amazing. She was an unbelievable powerhouse that Santana wouldn't mind playing piano for that tremendous amount of talent.

"Hey," Brittany skipped her steps approaching her locker. The girl standing in front of the locker next to it turned her head and gave her a smile.

"Hi," like reflex, Santana moved her hands from her own to Brittany's locker. After a few turns and clicks, she pulled the door open for Brittany.

Brittany smiled. Even after her hang out requests last week were repeatedly rejected, Santana still treated her the same and it gave her a sense of, however weird it was, security. "Thanks," she said, and Santana just shrugged with a smile.

"How was your weekend?" Santana asked.

"It was awesome," Brittany beamed. "They took me to this huuuge mall outside of St. Louis and like, let me get whatever I wanted. I told them no, but they wouldn't let me out of a store without buying something. I probably got, what, 14 new dresses in my closet now? And some other things too."

Santana smiled and forced herself to look away. She knew Brittany wasn't trying to make her envious or anything, but it was really hard to convince herself that she wasn't. While 14 dresses sounded like Doug and Nancy were trying too hard to get Brittany to like them, it must’ve been nice to have something that wasn't a hand-me-down from older kids from the group home. Santana wished she could remember the last time someone bought her a new dress.

Scratch that.

She _did_ remember. Someone from the local police department bought her a black dress a day before her father's funeral. She could even still remember what it smelled like.

Mothballs and pity.

 _Well, that was a happy memory,_ she rolled her eyes at her bitter self.

Someone slammed the locker door behind her and Santana was pulled back from her thoughts. Brittany was looking at her suspiciously, like how she always did when she was trying to read her friend.

Santana, realizing her spacing out must've confused Brittany, gave her friend a small smile. "That sounds really great, Britt," she said, and she tried to sound like she meant it.

Brittany took a book and shoved it into her backpack. Santana noticed that it was no longer a match for hers, no longer the one that Emma bought for them both before the school year started. It broke her heart a little bit.

"Nancy bought me this when I was in the fitting room," Brittany hurriedly told Santana when she realized what Santana's sad eyes were looking at. She shook her head with wide eyes, "I didn't want it, I swear. I told them I was fine with the old one but I didn't want to disappoint them. I'll use our bag again tomorrow!"

"Britt," Santana chuckled and shook her head. She felt much better after hearing Brittany's explanation. "Don't be silly. It's fine, I get it."

"Here, I got you something," Brittany pulled out a pink paper box from her new bag.

"What is it?"

"Open it," Brittany grinned.

Santana raised her left eyebrow and took the box from Brittany's hand. She pulled the matching ribbon off the box, trying hard to hold back a smile. It had been too long that anybody had ever given her something.

"Britt," she gasped. "This is so pretty," she brought the bracelet up to her eye level and got a better look at it. It sure looked expensive. "You shouldn't have."

"Let me help you," Brittany took the bracelet from Santana's hand and fastened it around her best friend's wrist. "Now we match," she beamed and held up her own wrist.

"Brittany," Santana eyed the three charms dangling on her bracelet. They sure were beautiful. One said "A", the other "M", and the last one had "BFF" etched on it. "I can't repay you for this."

Brittany shook her head. "No, no. It's a gift, from Doug."

"Doug?" Santana asked suspiciously. “Really, now?”

"Well, okay, it's from Nancy, actually. She wanted to get you— both of us— something. So I told her I wanted something that matched."

"Wow,” Santana looked at her wrist and fiddled with the bracelet. "That's so nice of her."

"She is. I like her."

"Me too. She's okay. It's her husband that I don't like."

"Still? Even though he's my new dad?"

"I'm sorry but I can't see myself liking him anytime soon," Santana cringed. "But I promise I'll try?"

Brittany shrugged. That was good enough for her, for now. "Okay."

"Now come on," Santana grabbed Brittany's hand. "We got English."

The blonde girl kept still in her place and tugged on Santana's hand. "Um, actually…" she bit her bottom lip. " _You_  have English… I got a new schedule."

Santana blinked a few times. "What do you mean you got a new schedule?"

"Doug rearranged my whole week," Brittany showed her a sheet of paper and Santana snatched it from her hands.

Santana read the whole thing top to bottom, her mouth moving accordingly to the words she was pronouncing out loud in her head.

"What the hell?"

"Mari…" Brittany reminded her that they were standing in the hallway full of students.

"Britt, he changed everything! We don't even get one class together?"

Brittany winced. "I'm sorry?"

"Did you agree to this?" Santana waved the paper. "Did you at least say something about it?"

"I did! I really did! I told him you've been helping and stuff, and that you're the best tutor and everything, but he told me he's gonna get me other tutors and…" Brittany played with the hem of her shirt.

"And what?" Santana scowled. She crossed her arms, still holding Brittany's new schedule with her left hand.

"And that maybe… I should be more independent?" Brittany looked down. One of her shoelaces was untied and dirty from getting stepped on. "And I kind of… I kind of agreed to that," she whispered.

"Is that what the bracelet's about? Is it some sort of a bribe or something?" Santana asked through gritted teeth.

Brittany looked up. Her eyes confused. "What?"

"You're just gonna… you're just gonna dump me like everybody else?" Santana's voice cracked. "First you moved out and now this? Best friends forever, my butt. You know what? Here, keep this," she took off her bracelet and shoved it into Brittany's hands. "By the way, you got Math. Second door after the teacher's lounge. But you probably already knew that," she told Brittany in a voice that was filled with venom.

"No, Santana. Please don't be like this. Hear me out, please," Brittany pleaded. But it was too late. Santana was already walking as fast as she could. Away, away, away from Brittany.

If she had just stayed a little bit longer, Santana would've probably seen Brittany wiping her tears, and heard the sniffles from her crying. She would've probably tried to listen to Brittany's reasons. She would've probably seen Mercedes shooting daggers with her glare as she came for Brittany's aid and she would've definitely seen Doug suspiciously coming out of a nearby class, smiling at what just happened.

But she didn't.

 

 


	14. Plans

**Chapter 14: Plans**

Brittany's days had been somewhat tiring. She had school, dance classes, tutoring, and on top of all that, she had to keep up her appearance of being perfectly fine and okay in front of her friends and new family. Only Mercedes knew about it and it was only because she caught her crying right after the fight with Santana. She didn't want anybody else to know.

Poor Mercedes, though. Brittany felt really sorry for her being caught in the middle. She knew Mercedes was torn between her and Santana. And it seemed like she was forcing Mercedes to pick her side just because her schedule adjustment had put them in the same classes. And it was great, really, to have a familiar face every day, but Brittany couldn't help but wonder if Santana was as lucky as her. It had been more than two weeks now. Santana couldn't be alone, right?

"Brittany! Hey, Britt! Wait up!"

Brittany didn't hear the voice that was calling her, as she was busy with her thoughts, but she felt somebody was, so she turned around anyway. She was pretty pleased with her sixth sense when she found out that someone actually was calling for her.

"Oh my God, Puck!" She smiled and her whole face beamed. "What are you doing here?"

Puck had to catch up with his breathing before he replied. "Team visit," he panted. "Rival school," he panted again.

"Oooh," Brittany nodded. That explained why Puck was a long way from home.

"What about you?" Puck rested his hands on his waist. "Man, you sure walk fast. I swear I wasn't that far when I saw you."

"Where did you see me from?" Brittany scrunched her face.

"Right…" Puck turned around to point at something, but that something was gone. "…there."

He scratched the back of his hair. As it turned out he had run further that he thought. The bus stop that he was waiting at was nowhere in his sight now. Although, that meant he spotted Brittany from a few blocks away and that meant he had exceptional eyesight — which was good because if he was going to be a receiver, he was going to need it.

"Anyway," he said after giving himself a mental pat on the back. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I just got out of a dance class."

"A dance class?"

"Yeah," Brittany told him excitedly. "Twice a week."

"Are you any good?"

"Weeell," Brittany blushed and kicked the ground. "My teacher said I am."

"Awesome," Puck said. "Maybe you'll perform sometime and we'll all come see you!"

"Puck, I _just_ started. I'm not gonna be on a stage anytime soon."

"Oh, come on. How else are we gonna see you now that you don't live with us anymore? Our classes are next to each other but I don't even get to see you. Are you hiding or something? Do you want me to kick someone's ass?"

Brittany chuckled. "No," she said. "Don't kick people's butts for me. You'll get in trouble."

Puck smiled at his ex sort-of-sister. The girl was still as sweet and as thoughtful as she was before, even if she didn't really have to now that they didn't live under the same roof anymore.

"How's the house?"

"Same ol', same ol'. Though there's no screeching, annoying girly sounds anymore so, personally, I'm happy you moved out," he said with a smirk and Brittany playfully slapped him on the arm. "Ow!" he laughed. "I'm kidding. We all miss you."

"Really?" Brittany frowned. She felt guilty for never coming over to her old home anymore. Between her dance classes, tutoring and Santana not talking to her, she didn't have the energy to drop by. "Santana too?"

"Mh-hm," Puck smiled. "I think especially Santana. She's just a mess."

"Yeah, we're —"

"I know."

"Oh."

"She's been walking around like a zombie and hasn't been shooting me vicious words for the past 2 weeks. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing," Puck raised up both his hands. "I kinda enjoyed it, but then I got bored."

Brittany chuckled and shook her head. "You're a goof," she said.

"Eh," he shrugged. "You love me."

Brittany softly punched him on the shoulder. She didn't have to say anything. A 'no' would be denying it — which she had no intention to. And a 'yes' was not enough to tell him how much Puck meant to her. In just a short amount of time, Puck had become one of her favorite people. Mostly because she'd never had a brother before, and it was a nice feeling to have someone looking after not only you, but also the whole family, even though they were not really related.

"Oh shit, I gotta go," Puck said as he looked at his watch. It was an hour-long bus ride home, and he really needed to get going. "I missed my bus when I was running to get you. And the last one's gonna be at the stop in, like, 5 minutes. So I have to run back," he said, squinting his eyes in the sun.

Brittany pouted, but then remembered that she still had tutoring in half an hour. "Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Don't bump into anything. Those lamp posts are pretty solid."

Puck laughed. He opened his arms for a hug and Brittany went to give him one. "It's good to see you. Take care, Britt," he said before he turned around and started running towards the bus stop.

Brittany hesitated but it was like she couldn't control her actions when she opened her mouth. "Puck!" she yelled and the boy stopped running and turned around.

"Tell her I miss her?"

Puck smiled and gave her a thumbs-up before he started running again. Brittany wasn't even sure he heard her right.

When she got home later that afternoon, Brittany only had a little over 10 minutes to get ready for her lesson. Not even enough time for a little snack even though her stomach was raging thunders after her dance class.

Sometimes she felt overwhelmed. Sometimes she wanted to check with Doug or Nancy for a schedule change, but Brittany never wanted to disappoint anybody. Seeing that her new parents really believed in her, enough that they seemed to make sure they provided the best for her, it was only natural that she played her part — a good daughter.

She looked at the paper in front of her. Full of mathematical equations. Xs, ABCs, letters, numbers and a bunch of symbols whose meanings were lost to her. She looked to her left, where her tutor was sitting. He was scribbling something on his notebook. Brittany took a peek and it looked like he was doing his own complicated homework.

She sighed. If it were Santana sitting there, she would've made sure Brittany understood every single problem before moving on to her own stuff. How was she supposed to start solving the problems when half the things written on that paper meant absolutely nothing to her?

But okay, she guessed Todd wasn't that bad. He was a decent guy. Like a gentleman, he always stood up whenever a woman was leaving the room. He didn't smell like old gym socks and, so far, he was kind enough to stick around even though he was having a really hard time explaining things to her. Plus, when he wasn’t tutoring her, he could be a lot of fun.

She sighed again just to gauge a reaction from her tutor, but nothing happened. She decided to speak out.

"I can't do it," she told him and he looked up to meet her eyes.

"Yes, you can, Brittany," Todd slid her back the paper that she had pushed away. "One more time."

"I can't. I just don't get it."

"Okay," Todd huffed. "Tell me which parts you don't understand?"

"Everything!"

"You gotta try harder!"

"I did!"

"Not hard enough! Come on. It's easy. X times 11 divided by 7 equals 8. That means X is…?"

"38?" she guessed. It was a really bad guess.

"Dammit Brittany," Todd slammed the desk with the palm of his hand and Brittany jumped. "It's not that hard! God! I can't believe you're this reta—"

"Everything okay in here?"

Nancy walked into the study with a pointed look on her face. She heard Todd's loud voice. She knew what he was about to say.

"Aunt Nance," Todd stuttered and cleared his throat. "I didn't know you were home."

Nancy eyed Todd up and down. He looked like he just swallowed a frog and was about to spit it back out.

"Brittany?" Nancy walked over to the young girl who was looking down, trying hard to keep her tears at bay. "Honey," she rubbed Brittany's back. "There's lemonade and shortbread cookies in the kitchen. You can go ahead and get some. I think the lesson can end early today."

Brittany nodded. She got up from her seat and headed towards the doorway. But she didn't walk through the sliding doors before turning around to tell Todd that she was sorry. The young man must've felt bad for what he had said to her because then he replied with a quiet voice that it was fine.

"What were you thinking?" Nancy crossed her arms. Now that Brittany was out of the room she could say whatever it was she had in her head. "Can you imagine what would've happened if Doug was around?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to snap." Todd pleaded. "It's just… I was frustrated. I got a huge essay to do and she's kind of impossible to teach!"

Nancy scoffed. "That's not true. She's been getting A's and B's since the start of the school year."

"A's?" Todd asked. "Her? But she's a D material!"

"Yes, her." Nancy rolled her eyes. "And I'll have you know, that her previous tutor was her best friend. Same grade and everything. Are you telling me you're incompetent?"

"Oh, come on, Aunt Nance. You can't compare me to a 6th grader!"

"Well, quit yelling at her," Nancy whisper-yelled at Todd, trying to keep her voice down so that nobody could hear them. "Doug was okay with hiring you because you're my nephew and he knows you've been getting straight A's because you go to McKinley High. But if he had heard you earlier," she poked his chest with a finger. "There's no telling what he could've done to you. To us."

Todd stepped forward so that he could use a lower voice with her. "Aunt Nance. Leave him. Pack up your things and leave. You can't let him treat you like this forever."

"And leave her behind?"

"Who? Brittany?" Todd asked and Nancy nodded. "She'll be okay. She was a foster kid before. She can go back to her old family!"

"I can't do that to her. You don't understand," she started to cry and Todd was taken aback. The lady who had just called him incompetent was now wiping the tears in her eyes. "Brittany is his thing. She seems to have this… this  _spell_ on him. He was the one who wanted to adopt her, God knows why. I tried giving him reasons not to, but when Doug wants something, he makes sure he gets it."

Todd considered his question for a moment before posing it. "Aunt Nance… did he hurt you? Does he still hurt you?"

"It doesn't matter," Nancy shook her head. "But I need her to be safe. So I need you to do whatever you can to keep him happy. Right now he expects her to have good grades. I don't know what he'll do to her if she doesn’t get them."

Todd ran his hand through his hair. This was too complicated for his 17-year-old mind. On one hand he wanted to help his aunt, because let's face it; she wasn't about to help herself. On the other, tutoring Brittany proved to be something that was beyond his ability. Not to mention he had his own problems to worry about.

"Aunt Nance, please," he looked at her straight in the eyes. "Just leave him. Take Brittany with you! She's a sweet girl, mom and dad would probably be relieved if you both live with us."

"No!" Nancy lowered her voice once again when she realized she was yelling that last word. "He'd come looking for me… for her… I just know he would! Please, Todd, just stay. Don't give up yet."

"I can't," Todd shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really don't want to quit, but I just can't. I'll help you find another tutor. I'm so sorry but right now this is just too much for me to handle. Maybe you can get her friend to tutor her again."

"No, I can't," Nancy wrapped her arms around herself. "For some reason Doug's trying to keep them apart. Todd, please. I'll double your pay. I'll—"

"Excuse me," Brittany's voice interrupted Nancy's speech. She was lucky she wasn't facing the door because if she was, Brittany would've seen her tears and it would've made the situation far more complicated than it already was.

"Yes, Brittany?" Nancy answered without turning around.

"Is Todd really leaving? Are you leaving, Todd?"

Todd looked at his aunt before he answered. "Yeah, Brittany. I am."

Brittany stepped inside the room and Todd quickly walked over to meet her halfway, just so that Nancy could compose herself before Brittany could see her crying.

"Am I gonna see you tomorrow?"

"No, Britt, sorry," Todd gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm not coming over anymore, okay?"

The blonde girl looked down at her feet. "Is it because I'm too stupid?"

"No! No, look, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just got a lot in my mind right now," he glanced at Nancy and Brittany followed his line of sight. She saw the older woman's shoulders trembling, but before she could make any comments, Todd was already talking to her again. "Besides, you're not stupid. I just found out from my aunt that you were getting awesome grades."

Brittany nodded. "Santana helped me."

"Then maybe you can get her to help you again until Nancy finds a new tutor for you?" Todd grabbed his backpack and swung it over his right shoulder. "See ya 'round, Britt. Talk to you later, Aunt Nance."

None of the ladies in the room replied to his goodbye.

oOoOo

Three weeks after the fight, however late it was to gain a perspective over what happened, Santana finally did. She really missed having Brittany around. A measly hour of lunch at school turned out to be better than nothing.

Fighting. She let the word float around in her head and she started to wonder if that really was what was happening between Brittany and herself. A fight is usually caused by two angry parties. But, looking back, she was the only one being angry that day.

_Whatever,_ Santana thought.  _I'm doing great._

That was a total lie, of course. If she were being honest to herself, she'd say that she had been a complete mess since the incident. She could feel herself retreating from people. Not just at school, but also at home.

The other weekend, when Will casually mentioned Brittany's name and how it was different not having the blonde girl around all the time, Santana completely shut down her social mode. When he asked her if she knew how Brittany was doing, she replied by excusing herself from dinner early, told everybody she wasn't feeling well and apologized to Emma for not helping her clean up.

Puck came into her room later that night (without knocking, as always). He sat on the desk, did his homework there and left without saying a word when Santana announced that she was going to sleep.

She knew what he was doing. He was keeping her company and she was actually touched by the gesture. So she gave him one of her pancakes the next morning.

"Don't get all soft on me, Santana. I might want more of those extra pancakes," he said as he put on his shoes that afternoon. Santana never could make out how Puck was so… social. He always had something going on every weekend. She couldn't believe that the lame gelled porcupine on top of his head didn't put people off.

"Don't count on it," Santana replied from the living room and Puck just laughed. She heard the front door opened and closed and figured that he left. But not a second later she heard the front door opened again.

"Forgot to tell you something," she heard Puck's voice yelling from the front door.

"What is it?" she asked using the same decibel.

"She said she missed you! Oh, and please Tell Will I'm gonna be home at 9!"

oOoOo

Mercedes Jones was torn.

She knew how close Brittany and Santana were, and she definitely knew both of their backstories. More of Brittany's compared to Santana's, though. Anybody who knew Santana would tell you that she wasn't much of a sharer. Only a few selected people were allowed to learn the random tidbits that Santana kept dear in her back pocket, and there was even fewer of those people who knew not everything, but definitely more than just the outer shell of Santana's bubble.

Mercedes never took offense upon the fact that she was part of the first category of people. She respected their history that much that she was willing to be just sitting on the fence looking in. She had never lost a parent, but she figured it must be awful to not be going home to a real family everyday.

Every morning her mom would give Mercedes a hug before she left for school, and all she could think of was how sad it was that Santana and Brittany didn't have mothers to hug them every day.

Sometimes she would get a little bit selfish and praise the Lord for not letting it happen to her. Then of course the next Sunday during church, she'd pray for forgiveness because the thought sounded so evil, selfish and conceited.

Her pastor had made it easier for her by saying that it was normal for her to be feeling that way, and that it meant that she was grateful for her own family — and that was a really good thing. Still, she couldn't ignore the guilt that she was feeling. Especially now.

Mercedes knew (well, more like she figured it out) how her friends had helped each other in their own ways, and that one simply couldn't exist without the other. Watching them fight just broke her heart.

She didn't know what caused the fight. The morning it happened, she had arrived to school too late to witness the whole thing. She just saw Santana leaving after shoving something into Brittany's hands. At first, she couldn't decide which girl to attend to, but seeing that Santana was well on her way, half running to her first class, Mercedes decided to check on Brittany first.

The tall girl was already crying when Mercedes tentatively touched her arm, so she let her cry into her shoulders. It was interesting for Mercedes, that Brittany didn't cry the way she had thought she would. The look that Brittany had on her face totally convinced her that she was going to cry her heart out, all loud and potentially making a scene. But no, Brittany was a silent crier — at least that day. Apart from something along the lines of, "she hates me," Brittany didn't say a word. It was the way Brittany's shoulders were shaking, and the tears soaking her shirt that made Mercedes heart felt like it was being yanked out of her ribcage.

Throughout that Monday, Mercedes started to put the pieces together because somehow Brittany had more classes with her than she usually did. That must've been the reason why her friends were fighting. She couldn't, however, figure out why a change in schedule would cause a riff between the girls.

She tried to ignore it, hoping that the girls would solve the situation by themselves. But it was nearing a month after the original day of the fight and they hadn’t shown any sign of making up.

Mercedes was anxious. She had had enough of Brittany being mopey, and couldn't stand the sight of Santana eating her lunch alone in a quiet corner of the lunch hall any longer.

Through a note passed in class she tried to casually prod Brittany about the fight. She thought she had a better chance of getting an answer from Brittany rather than the other person involved in the war, but Brittany only gave her a headshake instead of passing back the piece of paper. It was then Mercedes knew that this was none of her business.

Of course, smart girls always have a Plan B.

When even Brittany didn't want to drop her hints on what was going on, it meant that Mercedes should expect even less from Santana. So she crossed being nosy from her list and started brewing another plan. This time it was more about bringing them back together.

There was always one thing that she could rely on from her friends: their promise to be there for each other. And the first thing she had to do: enlist a backup. Lucky for her, she already had one going by the name Kurt.

oOoOo

Santana had a free third period because half of the teaching staff had an emergency over sanitation issues. There was a rumor going around that the janitor found a family of snakes in one of the restrooms, but she just couldn't waste her time thinking about that kind of nonsense.

Her mind was still occupied by what Puck told her the other day. She cursed herself for having an ego that was too big to risk getting ridiculed by Puck if she asked about who 'she' was. Of course, she had an inkling that he was talking about Brittany. But would she really say that, given that it was Santana who shoved their matching bracelet back into Brittany's hands?

Santana huffed and covered her face with her hands. She recalled the day it happened. It was so far away now that she could see what really went down, clearly. She wasn't mad at Brittany, she was angry at the circumstances. At Doug, definitely. But not at Brittany.

_And oh God, I should've stayed and listened to what she had to say. Why couldn't I've stayed longer? What kind of a friend am I?_

"Homework?"

Santana snapped out of her thoughts and looked up from her book. She eyed the person who just greeted her. It was so hard not to throw comments about the creepy elk head brooch that he was wearing on his chest.

"Yep," she said.

"Can I sit here?" Kurt pointed to the empty chair next to Santana. There was nobody occupying it, but he thought he should ask first. Mercedes had told him all about Santana's bubble and he had no intention to pop it.

Santana glanced at the chair before shrugging. Kurt took it as a yes.

"I got homework too," Kurt whispered, trying to make a quiet conversation. "I got geography, biology…"

"Hummel, could you please?" Santana gave him a warning look and Kurt pursed his lips.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I think I'm just too overjoyed for having someone to sit with. Apparently once you're thrown into the dumpsters, you'll never get rid of the stench."

Santana scrunched her nose and looked at the boy.

"It's a metaphor," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Well, your metaphor stinks," Santana quipped, then she smirked. "Pun intended."

Kurt chuckled and that made Santana smile a little before returning her focus to the book that she was reading. She really didn't mind having Kurt there. In fact, she was glad to have someone sit with her.

Santana watched Kurt from the corner of her eyes and observed as he laid out his notebooks, textbooks and pens neatly in front of him. She wondered how long he had been sitting all alone before today. She herself had been doing it for almost a month. Before, there was always Brittany. But now that they were fighting…

"Santana?"

"Huh? What?"

"Nothing. You just looked," Kurt thought of a word. "Lost."

"Oh," Santana shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm just working out some stuff about this chapter."

"History?"

"Yeah," Santana lifted the book to show it to Kurt and huffed. "Lots of things to memorize."

"When's your test? Mine's tomorrow. I'm in the same class as Brittany."

Santana's ears perked up hearing the name. "Really?"

"Yeah," Kurt confirmed with a nod. "We've been sitting together for… I think 3 weeks in a row now."

"How is she doing in that class?" Santana couldn't help but ask.

"She's..." Kurt's eyes widened with realization and looked at the girl next to her. Mercedes warned him about saying the wrong things about Brittany. He knew Santana could kill him. "Okay, I'm not saying this because I think she's not smart or anything, but she could really use some help."

Kurt winced, scared of Santana's reaction to his answer. But she did nothing but stared at her book, so he gathered his courage for the second part of Mercedes’s plan.

"Sooo… what happened to you guys? Mercedes told me you used to help Brittany with her studies. I mean, you used to be inseparable. Even when I didn't know you I could tell you were joined at the hip."

Santana shrugged. "Things happened." A pause. "I thought she has tutors now?"

"She did," Kurt nodded. "But they kinda quit on her, that poor thing. Since then she's had a couple more, but none of them really helped. And now I'm worried for her. You know how there's a grading period, right?" Kurt checked to see if Santana understood him and she nodded to tell him that she did.

"Well," he continued, "this next one's gonna end in January. I'm just worried that if she… if they can’t find her a tutor that can reach her, she'll have trouble keeping up."

Kurt waited for Santana to say something about the whole matter and watched her facial expressions changed from one thing to another. It was pretty amusing, if they weren't all of bad feelings alternating one second to the next. When Santana abruptly got up from her seat and started to pack her things, Kurt furrowed his eyebrows.

"Where are you going?"

"Sorry," Santana zipped her backpack. Enough was enough. "I just remembered I have something to do at home."

That was a dumb lie. They both knew it was only the third period. She couldn't possibly be heading home. Kurt eyed Santana suspiciously as she walked towards the exit, but decided to just let it go. He had done his part and it was clear that Santana still cared a great deal about Brittany. Otherwise she wouldn't have asked at all. He was going to report that to Mercedes later.

As soon as she was out of the library, Santana went to an empty classroom and tore off pages from her folder. She could've made a copy first, but it was much faster this way. Besides, her test wasn't until Wednesday. She still had plenty of time to rewrite everything.

Santana started rereading all of her notes and exchanged any big word that she might've used with simpler ones — ones that Brittany would instantly understand.

She highlighted some parts with her pink and yellow fluorescent pens, knowing that her best friend would appreciate the wonderful colors on the page and, therefore, would help her remember all the details better. She even took the time to illustrate the really complicated paragraphs — even though she knew she wasn't the best artist on the block — just to make sure Brittany had a visual aid to work on. Cute pictures never failed to turn studying into a more fun occasion.

Santana pulled away to check on her handiwork.  _Not bad,_ she thought. It was kind of messy, but it was the best she could do for now.

She picked up a red pen and before she could stop herself, she found her left hand was already scribbling, "Good luck, Britt!" at the bottom of the last page.

She sighed.  _There goes anonymity._

Santana looked at the clock to see if there was time for a do-over. But nope, there was no such thing. She only had several minutes left to shove the papers into Brittany's locker before the hallway was flooded with students. She knew the sooner Brittany got her hands on those notes, the more time she'd have to study. After packing her things, she stormed out of the classroom and headed to the lockers.

Exactly 1 measly second before the bell rang, Santana's mission was accomplished and Brittany's locker was closed shut like nothing ever happened. Santana decided that she needed to stick around; to make sure Brittany got those notes. After contemplating her options, she hid behind a nearby door and peeked through the glass window. It was either that or the trashbin.

It wasn't long until the hallway was filled with scrambling students. She noticed a few people from her class, including JBI and his big hair rushed to their respective lockers to get whatever books they needed. She saw Kurt, coming from the library and felt bad for leaving him just like that earlier. She promised to sit with him during the next class they had together.

Santana thought she heard a familiar sound of laughter, so she turned her head to see the other side of the hallway. She was right, it was Mercedes’s laughing to whatever story Brittany was telling her. That girl, aside from having a set of powerful pipes to sing, could also laugh like it was her last chance to laugh. By the time the girls got to the lockers (Mercedes's was right across hers and Brittany's), the laughter slowly died and Mercedes helped Brittany with her locker combo. Santana made a mental note to pay for the black girl’s meal the next time they had lunch together.

As soon as Brittany got her locker opened, Mercedes went to her own locker to get her things and left Brittany alone. It was then that Brittany found the folded notes. She looked confused, at first, but who wouldn't be when they found an unfamiliar stack of paper in their locker?

She took out the papers and started to read them. Her face lit up when she realized what was in it, and lit up even more when she got to the bottom of the last page. She knew exactly whom it was from.

Through the glass window, Santana watched Brittany scanning the hallway to find the person responsible to the lovely gift she had just found amongst her stuff. But Santana was a pro in hide and seek.

Or so she thought.

Her line of sight got blocked by few kids, and when they were gone, Brittany was too. Santana lost her. It was as if Brittany disappeared into thin air because Santana couldn't think of anywhere she might've gone to.

_Damn crowded hallways with kids in the way._

Figuring that the coast was clear and that the notes were now in Brittany's hands, Santana stepped out of her hiding place. She had her 4th class to go to, and she'd like to get there early to get a good seat next to the window. The teacher had some serious hygiene issues.

She turned around, planning to make a short stop at the water fountain. But suddenly something fast came her way and tackled her that she was pushed back onto the lockers. She closed her eyes, shocked by the impact. She couldn't breathe and for a moment she thought maybe it was a stampede. Or maybe the rumor about the restroom was right and it was a huge python squeezing her to death.

"See you at lunch, Santana," the hug loosened and Santana instantly recognized that voice. But when she finally opened her eyes, the 'python' was already nothing but a blur of blonde hair running to her next class.

Santana got to her class a little too late to score a good seat far from the odor her teacher was emitting, but it didn't matter. It was the best fourth period she'd ever had. Ever.

 

 


End file.
